MONTLIVET 


ALICE  PRESCOTT  SMITH 


417 


glue  flreecott 


MONTLIVET.     i2mo,  $1.50. 

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HOUGHTON,   MIFFLIN  &  CO. 
BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK. 


MONTLIVET 


*ffc 


Sept 


CARTE   GENERALE 
DE      CANADA 


GRAND     E,  SPACE,     DE,     TE,RRE, 
DE  LABRADOR      O  LT  DE-S    E.SK1MAUX 


Exptication 

c&j  ttffe*  FfArt^o 

de 

et 


O   C    E  A  N  E 


© 


O 


o 


© 

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•::• 
© 


MONTLIVET 


BY   ALICE   PRESCOTT   SMITH 


*::• 


& 

& 


© 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 

Cfje  fttoerstoe  presg,  CambriBge 
1906 


© 

•:•> 
© 


© 
© 


« 


COPYRIGHT  1906  BY  ALICE  PRKSCOTT  SMITH 
ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 

Published  Septtmbtr  /0o& 


SECOND  IMPRESSION 


TO 

M.  C.  H.  AND  A.  E.  H. 


2138166 


CONTENTS 

I.  THE  KEY 1 

II.  THE  CAPTIVE 13 

III.  BEHIND  THE  COMMANDANT'S  DOOR         .    24 
IV.  IN  THE  OTTAWA  CAMP        ...        34 

V.  A  DECISION 49 

VI.  DAME  OPPORTUNITY     ....        58 

VII.  THE  BEGINNING 72 

VIII.  PARTNERS 91 

IX.  WESTWARD 101 

X.  I  WAKE  A  SLEEPER       .        .        .        .115 

XI.  MARY  STARLING 121 

XII.  A  COMPACT 132 

XIII.  WE   REACH   THE    ISLANDS  .  .  .    147 

XIV.  A  PROVISIONAL  BARGAIN      .        .        .164 
XV.  I  TAKE  A  NEW  PASSENGER      .        .        .  182 

XVI.  THE  STORM 199 

XVII.  AFTER  THE  STORM 214 

XVIII.  IN  WHICH  I  USE  OPPORTUNITY    .        .      226 

XIX.  IN  THE  MIST 248 

XX.  WHAT  I  FOUND  267 


viii  CONTENTS 

XXI.  THE  PIVOT 281 

XXII.  THE  PRICE  OF  SLEEP   .        .        .        .295 

XXIII.    I   ENCOUNTER  MlXED   MOTIVES  .  .   309 

XXIV.  I  MEET  VARIOUS  WELCOMES         .        .      324 

XXV.  OVER  CADILLAC'S  TABLE          .        .        .338 

XXVI.  FROM  HOUR  TO  HOUR  .         ...      347 

XXVII.  IN  COUNCIL 358 

XXVIII.  CHILDREN  OF  OPPORTUNITY          .        .      367 

XXIX.  I  FOLLOW  MY  PATH  .        .        .        .379 

XXX.  THE  MEANING  OF  CONQUEST       .        .      388 

XXXI.  THE  UNDESERVED 411 

XXXII.    I  TELL   THE   WOMAN        .  .  .  .429 

XXXIII.   To   US  AND  TO  OUR  CHILDREN  .   437 


MONTLIVET 


MONTLIVET 

CHAPTER   I 

THE   KEY 

THE  May  sun  was  shining  on  Michillimackinac, 
and  I,  Armand  de  Montlivet,  was  walking  the 
strip  of  beach  in  front  of  the  French  garrison. 

I  did  not  belong  to  Michillimackinac.  I  had 
come  in  only  the  day  before  with  two  canoes 
and  four  men,  and  I  was  bound  for  the  beaver 
lands  further  west.  A  halt  was  necessary,  for 
the  trip  had  been  severe,  and  remembering  that 
it  was  necessity,  and  not  idleness,  that  held  me, 
I  was  enjoying  the  respite.  My  heart  was  light, 
and  since  the  heart  is  mistress  of  the  heels,  I 
walked  somewhat  trippingly.  I  was  on  good 
terms  with  myself  at  the  moment.  My  venture 
was  going  well,  and  I  was  glad  to  be  alone,  and 
breathe  deep  of  the  sweet  spring  air,  and  let  my 
soul  grow  big  with  the  consciousness  of  what  it 
would  like  to  do.  So  content  was  I,  that  I  was 
annoyed  to  see  La  Mothe-Cadillac  approach. 

Yet  Cadillac  was  important  to  me  then.  He 
was  commandant  at  Michillimackinac,  —  the 


2  MONTLIVET 

year  was  1695,  —  and  so  was  in  control  of  the 
strategic  point  of  western  New  France.  The 
significance  of  all  that  he  stood  for,  and  all  that 
he  might  accomplish,  filled  my  thought  as  he 
swaggered  toward  me  now,  and  I  said  to  myself, 
somewhat  complacently,  that,  with  all  his  air  of 
importance,  I  had  a  fuller  conception  than  he  of 
what  lay  in  his  palm. 

He  hailed  me  without  preface.  "  Where  do  you 
find  food  for  your  laughter  in  this  forsaken  coun 
try,  Month  vet  ?  I  have  watched  you  swagger  up 
and  down  with  a  smile  on  your  face  for  the  last 
hour.  What  is  the  jest?" 

In  truth,  there  was  no  jest  in  me  by  the  time 
he  finished.  My  own  thought  had  just  called 
him  a  swaggerer,  and  now  he  clapped  the  same 
phrase  back  at  me. 

"There  are  more  swaggerers  upon  this  beach 
than  I,"  I  cried  hotly,  and  I  felt  my  blood  rise. 

My  tone  was  more  insulting  than  my  words, 
and  Cadillac,  too,  grew  red.  I  saw  the  veins 
upon  his  neck  begin  to  swell,  and  all  my  childish 
irritation  vanished. 

"  Come,  monsieur,"  I  hastened ;  "  I  was  wrong. 
But  I  meant  no  harm,  and  surely  here  is  a  jest 
fit  for  your  laughter,  that  two  grown  men  should 
stand  and  swell  at  each  other  like  turkeycocks, 
all  because  they  are  drunk  with  the  air  of  a  May 
day.  Come,  here  is  my  hand." 


THE  KEY  3 

"But  you  said  that  I"  — 

"And  what  if  I  did?"  I  interrupted.  I  had 
fallen  into  step,  and  was  pacing  by  his  side. 
"  What  is  there  in  the  term  that  we  should  hold 
it  in  slight  esteem  ?  I  swagger.  What  does  that 
mean,  after  all,  but  my  acknowledgment  of  the 
presence  of  Dame  Opportunity,  and  my  admis 
sion  that  I  would  like  to  impress  her;  to  draw 
her  eye  in  my  direction.  Surely  that  is  laudable, 
monsieur." 

Cadillac  laughed.  His  tempers  were  the  ruf 
fle  of  a  passing  breeze  upon  deep  water.  "  So  you 
think  that  I  swagger  to  meet  opportunity  ?  Well, 
if  I  do,  I  get  but  little  out  of  it.  Sometimes  I  push 
myself  near  enough  to  pluck  at  the  sleeve  of  the 
dame;  oftener  she  passes  me  by." 

;<Yet  she  gave  you  this  key  to  an  empire,"  I 
suggested.  I  had  been  rude,  and  I  repented  it, 
and  more  than  that,  there  was  something  in  the 
man  that  tempted  me  to  offer  him  flattery  even 
as  I  desire  to  give  sweets  to  an  engaging  child. 

But  this  cajolery  he  swept  away  with  a  fling 
of  his  heavy  arm.  "The  key  to  an  empire!  "  he 
echoed  contemptuously.  "They  are  fine  words, 
and  the  mischief  is  that  they  are  true.  Yet  food 
in  my  stomach,  and  money  in  my  pocket,  would 
mean  more  to  me  just  now.  I  must  speak  to  this 
Indian.  Will  you  wait  for  me,  monsieur  ?  I  have 
business  with  you." 


4  MONTLIVET 

I  bowed,  and  resumed  my  walk.  "The  key 
to  an  empire!"  I  said  my  own  words  over,  and 
could  have  blushed  for  their  tone  of  bombast. 
They  were  true,  but  they  sounded  false.  I  looked 
at  my  surroundings,  and  marveled  that  a  situa 
tion  that  was  of  real  dignity  could  wear  so  mean 
a  garb.  The  sandy  cove  where  I  stood  was  on  the 
mainland,  and  sheltered  four  settlements.  Behind 
lay  the  forest;  in  front  stretched  Lake  Huron, 
a  waterway  that  was  our  only  link  with  the  men 
and  nations  we  had  left  behind.  The  settlements 
were  contiguous  in  body,  but  even  my  twenty- 
four  hours'  acquaintance  had  shown  me  that  they 
were  leagues  apart  in  mind.  There  were  a  French 
fort,  a  Jesuit  convent,  a  village  of  Ottawas,  and, 
barred  by  the  aristocracy  of  a  palisade,  a  village 
of  Hurons.  The  scale  of  precedence  was  plain 
to  read.  The  huts  of  the  savages  were  wattled, 
interlaced  of  poles  and  bark;  the  French  build 
ings  were  of  wood,  but  roofed  with  rough  cedar; 
the  only  houses  with  board  roofs  were  those  of 
the  Jesuits.  In  later  times  when  I  found  Father 
Carheil  hard  to  understand,  I  used  to  say  to  my 
self  that  he  was  not  to  be  held  too  strictly  to  ac 
count  for  his  contradictions,  for  though  one  learns 
to  think  great  thoughts  in  the  wilderness,  it  is 
not  done  easily  when  there  is  sawed  lumber  to 
shut  away  the  sky. 

Cadillac  came  back  to  me  in  a  few  moments. 


THE   KEY  5 

He  had  lost  his  swelling  port,  and  was  frown 
ing  with  thought.  "I  saw  you  in  the  Huron 
camp,  Montlivet,"  he  said.  "Do  you  understand 
their  speech  ?  " 

Now  this  was  a  question  that  I  thought  it  as 
well  to  put  by.    "Would  you  call  it  speech?"  I 
demurred.    "It  sounded  more  like  snarling." 
'Then  you  do  understand  it?" 

I  kicked  at  the  dogs  at  my  feet.  "Frowns  are 
a  common  language.  I  could  understand  them, 
at  least.  The  camp  is  restless.  Are  they  hun- 


Cadillac  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Possibly. 
But  it  is  not  hunger  that  sagamite  or  maize  cakes 
can  reach.  Would  a  taste  of  Iroquois  broth  put 
them  in  better  condition,  do  you  think?" 

I  turned  away  somewhat  sickened.  "It  is  a 
savage  remedy,"  I  broke  out.  "And  a  good  cook 
will  catch  his  hare  before  he  talks  of  putting  it 
in  the  pot.  Where  is  your  Iroquois  hare,  Mon 
sieur  de  la  Mothe-Cadillac  ?  " 

The  commandant  shook  his  head.  "My  hare 
is  still  at  large,"  he  confessed.  "Though  just 
now  -  Come,  Monsieur  de  Montlivet,  let  us 
to  plain  speech.  We  are  talking  as  slantingly  as 
savages.  I  have  a  Huron  messenger  at  my  quar 
ters.  Come  with  me,  and  interpret." 

"A  messenger  from  your  own  camp?" 

"Is  it  my  own  camp  ?"  he  queried  soberly.  "I 


6  MONTLIVET 

do  not  know.  I  have  reason  to  think  that  many 
of  my  Hurons  are  ripe  for  English  bribes,  —  or 
even  for  the  Iroquois.  It  is  a  strange  menagerie 
that  I  rule  over  here,  and  the  Hurons  are  the 
foxes,  --when  they  are  not  trying  to  be  lions. 
You  say  that  their  camp  is  restless.  I  do  not 
speak  their  language,  but  I  can  tell  you  more. 
They  are  in  two  factions.  Those  who  follow  old 
Kondiaronk,  the  Rat,  are  fairly  loyal,  but  the  fac 
tion  under  the  Baron  would  sell  us  to  the  Eng 
lish  for  the  price  of  a  cask  of  rum.  Truly  our 
scalps  sit  lightly  on  our  heads  here  in  this  gar 
rison." 

I  hesitated.  I  did  not  like  this  situation,  and 
prudence  whispered  that  I  had  best  cut  the  con 
versation  here,  and  make  my  way  as  swiftly  as 
possible  to  the  west.  But  curiosity  urged  me  to 
one  more  question.  I  asked  it  with  my  lips  purs 
ing  to  a  whistle,  that  I  might  seem  indifferent. 
"Is  the  messenger  from  the  Baron?" 

Cadillac  nodded  contentedly.  "So  you  have 
decided  to  help  me,"  he  said,  with  a  smile  that 
read  my  indecision  perfectly,  and  I  felt,  with  a 
rush  of  blood  to  my  face,  much  less  sure  of  my 
self,  and  more  respect  for  him.  "I  wish  that  I 
had  inducements  to  keep  you  here,"  he  went  on, 
"for  I  hear  from  Montreal  that  you  have  won 
derful  command  of  Indian  dialects.  But  I  will 
take  what  you  are  willing  to  give,  and  be  thank- 


THE  KEY  7 

ful.  As  to  this  messenger,  —  this  is  the  tale. 
Some  months  ago  a  small  band  of  Hurons  left 
here  for  the  south.  Hunting,  or  war,  or  diplo 
macy,  how  shall  I  say  what  was  their  errand? 
But  I  mistrust  them,  for  they  are  followers  of  the 
Baron.  They  returned  this  morning,  and  are  in 
camp  on  the  island.  Their  sending  a  messenger 
in  advance  looks  as  if  they  had  a  prisoner,  and 
so  desired  to  be  welcomed  in  state.  If  the  pris 
oner  should  be  an  Iroquois" 

Now  certain  tales  were  fresh  in  my  ears,  and 
so  I  did  not  like  the  implication  of  the  unfin 
ished  sentence,  and  hastened  to  cover  it.  "  It  is 
a  favorable  sign,  monsieur,  that  the  messenger 
came  to  you  first." 

"How  do  I  know  that  he  came  to  me  first? 
He  came  to  me  —  yes.  But  because  a  snake 
slips  out  of  one  hole,  can  you  swear  that  he  has 
not  been  in  another  ?  Will  you  go  to  him  now  ?" 

There  was  no  door  open  for  escape,  and  the 
matter  was  not  important  enough  for  me  to  be 
willing  to  force  one.  "If  you  wish,"  I  agreed. 

Cadillac  looked  relieved.  "Good!  You  will 
find  the  messenger  at  my  quarters.  I  shall  let  you 
go  alone,  for  I  can  make  nothing  of  the  man's 
speech,  and  he  smells  somewhat  rancid  for  a 
close  acquaintance.  When  you  are  through,  you 
will  find  me  here." 

I  bowed,  and  made  my  way  to  his  quarters. 


8  MONTLIVET 

I  knew  as  I  opened  his  door  that  I  might  be  en 
tering  more  than  appeared  upon  the  surface,  but 
the  excitement  of  the  game  was  worth  the  hazard, 
-  even  the  hazard  of  a  possible  delay,  —  and  I 
pushed  the  door  wide,  and  went  in. 

The  Huron  was  sitting  in  the  middle  of  the 
floor,  handling  his  calumet  with  some  ostentation. 
The  Hurons  were  but  the  remnant  of  a  race,  for 
Iroquois  butchery  had  reduced  them  in  numbers 
and  in  spirit,  but  even  in  their  exile  they  pre 
served  a  splendor  of  carriage  that  made  the 
Ottawas,  who  camped  beside  them  here,  seem 
but  a  poor  and  shuffling  people.  This  man  was 
a  comely  specimen,  and  he  was  decked  to  do 
honor  to  the  moment.  His  blanket  was  clean, 
and  his  head  freshly  shaved  except  for  a  bris 
tling  ridge  that  ran,  like  a  cock's  comb,  across  his 
crown,  and  that  dripped  sunflower  oil  over  his 
shoulders. 

He  handed  me  his  calumet,  and  we  smoked 
for  the  time  required  by  ceremony,  then  he  rose, 
and  drew  two  beaver  skins  from  the  folds  of  his 
blanket. 

''The  sun  has  smiled  upon  us,"  he  said,  with 
a  certain  sedate  pomposity  which,  like  the  black 
crest  on  his  head,  might  be  ludicrous  in  itself, 
but  seemed  fitting  enough  in  him.  "  I  speak  for 
my  people  who  are  in  camp  upon  the  island.  We 
have  been  upon  strange  rivers,  and  over  moun- 


THE   KEY  9 

tains  where  the  very  name  of  Frenchman  is  un 
known.  Yet  we  have  returned,  and  we  come  to 
you  at  once,  as  the  partridge  to  her  young.  We 
are  glad  to  see  a  Frenchman's  face  again.  We 
confirm  what  we  have  said  by  giving  these  bea 
vers." 

I  smoked  for  a  moment,  then  leaned  over  and 
kicked  the  skins  into  the  corner.  "Why  these 
words  ?"  I  asked,  with  a  slow  shrug.  "Does  the 
leg  thank  the  arm  for  its  service  ?  Does  the 
mouth  give  flatteries  and  presents  to  the  tongue  ? 
We  of  Michillimackinac  are  all  of  one  body.  My 
brother  must  be  drunk  with  the  bad  rum  of  the 
English  traders,  that  he  should  come  to  me  in 
this  way.  No,  if  my  brother  has  anything  to  say, 
let  him  think  it  aloud  without  ceremony,  as  if 
speaking  to  his  own  heart.  Let  him  save  his 
beavers  till  he  goes  to  treat  with  strangers." 

There  was  a  long  silence.  The  Huron  wrapped 
his  blanket  closer,  and  looked  at  me,  while  I 
stared  back  as  unwinkingly.  His  face  was  a 
mask,  but  I  thought  —  as  I  have  thought  before 
and  since  when  at  the  council  fire  —  that  there 
was  amusement  in  the  very  blankness  of  his  gaze, 
and  that  my  effort  to  outdo  him  at  his  own 
mummeiy  somewhat  taxed  his  gravity.  When 
he  spoke  at  last  he  told  his  story  concisely. 

A  half  hour  later,  I  went  in  search  of  Cadillac. 
He  heard  my  step  on  the  crunching  gravel,  and 


10  MONTLIVET 

when  I  was  still  rods  away,  he  laid  his  finger  on 
his  lips  for  silence.  I  went  to  him  rather  resent 
fully,  for  I  had  had  no  mind  to  shout  my  news 
in  the  street  of  the  settlement,  and  I  thought  that 
he  was  acting  like  a  child.  But  he  took  no  no 
tice  of  my  pique,  and  clapped  me  on  the  shoulder 
as  if  we  were  pot-companions. 

"Hush,  man,"  he  whispered  fretfully.  "Your 
look  is  fairly  shouting  the  news  abroad.  No  need 
to  keep  your  tongue  sealed,  when  you  carry  such 
a  tell-tale  face.  So  they  have  an  Iroquois  ?  " 

I  dropped  my  shoulder  away  from  under  his 
hand.  "  If  that  is  the  news  that  you  say  I  shouted, 
no  harm  is  done,  —  save  to  my  honor.  No,  they 
have  no  Iroquois." 

Cadillac  stopped.  "No  Iroquois!"  he  echoed 
heavily. 

"No,  monsieur.    They  have  an  Englishman." 

It  was  as  if  I  had  struck  him.  He  stepped 
back,  and  his  face  grew  dull  red. 

"A  spy?" 

I  shook  my  head.  I  could  feel  my  blood  pump 
ing  hard,  but  I  answered  by  rote.  "Not  by  the 
Huron's  story." 

The  commandant  snapped  his  fingers.  "That 
for  his  story  !  As  idle  as  wind  in  the  grass  !  "  he 
snorted.  "  But  what  did  he  say  ?" 

I  grew  as  laconic  as  the  Huron.  "That  they 
left  here  as  a  hunting  party,"  I  said  categorically. 


THE   KEY  11 

"That  they  soon  joined  a  war  party  of  Algon- 
quins,  and  went  with  them  to  the  English  fron 
tier.  I  could  make  little  of  his  geography,  but  I 
infer  that  they  went  in  the  direction  of  Boston, 
-  though  not  so  far.  There  the  Algonquins  fell 
upon  a  village,  where  they  scalped  and  burned 
to  their  fill.  He  says  that  the  Hurons  remained 
neutral,  and  this  prisoner,  he  maintains,  is  theirs 
by  purchase.  They  bought  him  from  the  Algon 
quins  for  two  white  dressed  deerskins,  and  they 
have  treated  him  well.  They  have  found  him  a 
man  of  spirit  and  importance,  and  they  ask  that 
you  make  a  suitable  feast  in  honor  of  what  they 
have  done.  The  Huron  is  waiting  for  your  an 
swer." 

Cadillac  had  listened  nodding,  and  his  reply 
was  ready.  "Tell  him  that  they  must  bring  the 
prisoner  to-morrow  early,  —  soon  after  daybreak. 
Tell  him  that  Monsieur  de  la  Mothe-Cadillac 
knows  his  part,  and  that  the  kettles  shall  be 
full  of  dog-meat,  and  the  young  men  painted  and 
ready  for  the  dancing."  He  spoke  rapidly,  his 
hand  on  his  sword,  and  his  great  shoulders 
lifted  as  if  eager  to  meet  their  new  burden.  He 
turned  to  me  with  a  smile  that  would  have  con 
quered  enmity  in  a  wolf.  'This  is  great  news, 
Montlivet.  I  could  almost  ask  you  to  drink  the 
health  of  the  Baron,  and  all  his  scurvy,  seditious 
crew.  For,  look  you,  even  if  the  Englishman  is 


12  MONTLIVET 

a  spy,  and  the  Hurons  have  brought  him  here  to 
make  a  secret  treaty,  why,  he  is  in  our  hands, 
and  Boston  is  a  continent  away.  He  will  have 
opportunity  to  learn  some  French  before  he  goes 
back  to  his  codfish  friends.  What  say  you,  mon 
sieur?" 

I  laughed  rather  ruefully.  I  saw  that  the  game 
was  to  be  exciting,  and  I  had  never  been  back 
ward  at  a  sport.  Yet  I  knew  that  I  must  turn 
my  face  from  it. 

"What  do  I  say?"  I  repeated.  "Nothing, 
monsieur,  but  that  I  am  a  trader,  not  a  diplomat, 
and  that  to-morrow  I  must  be  on  my  way  to  the 
west.  I  will  take  your  answer  to  the  Huron. 
Monsieur,  I  hope  you  will  sleep  long  and  sweetly 
to-night.  You  will  need  a  clear  head  to-morrow." 

Cadillac  looked  at  me,  and  wagged  his  head. 
"  Good-day  to  you,  trader,"  he  said,  with  one 
of  his  noiseless  laughs.  "How  well  you  must 
sleep  who  have  no  thought  beyond  your  beaver 
skins,  —  even  though  you  do  carry  brandy  and 
muskets  hidden  in  your  cargo.  Never  mind, 
never  mind.  Keep  your  secrets.  Only  see  that 
Father  Carheil  does  not  smell  your  brandy,  or  I 
may  be  forced  to  send  you  back  to  Montreal." 


CHAPTER    II 

THE    CAPTIVE 

I  WOKE  the  next  morning,  saying,  "I  must 
keep  out  of  this,"  and  I  knew  that  I  had  said  it 
in  my  slumber.  It  is  pitiful  that  a  man  should 
be  so  infirm  of  will  that  he  need  cosset  his  reso 
lution  in  this  fashion,  and  I  kicked  the  dogs  from 
the  door  of  my  cabin,  and  went  out  to  meet  the 
world  in  a  bad  humor. 

It  was  a  still  world  in  the  great  sky  and  water 
spaces,  but  a  noisy  one  upon  the  shore.  Early 
as  it  was  —  the  night  dusk  was  still  lingering  - 
the  kettles  were  simmering,  and  the  Indians 
decked  for  a  holiday.  The  sense  of  approach 
ing  action  was  powder  to  my  nostrils,  and  added 
to  my  spleen;  so  though  I  went  down  upon  the 
beach,  and  joined  Cadillac  and  his  officers,  I  was 
but  surly  company,  and  soon  turned  my  back 
upon  them,  to  stare  off  at  the  lake. 

It  was  a  breezeless  morning,  and  the  lake  was 
without  ripple.  It  lay  like  one  of  the  metal  mir 
rors  that  we  sell  the  Indians,  a  lustreless  gray 
sheet  that  threw  back  twisted  pictures.  I  looked 
off  at  the  east,  and  thought  of  the  dull  leagues 
that  lay  behind  me,  and  the  uncounted  ones 


14  MONTLIVET 

before,  and  I  realized  that  the  morning  air  was 
cold,  and  that  I  hated  the  dark,  secret  water  that 
led  through  this  strange  land.  Yet,  even  as  I 
scowled  at  it,  the  disk  of  the  sun  climbed  over  the 
island's  rim,  and  laid  a  shining  pathway  through 
the  gray,  —  a  pathway  that  ended  at  my  feet. 

I  felt  my  pulse  quicken.  After  all,  it  was  a  fair 
world,  and  the  air,  though  keen,  was  a  cordial. 
I  let  my  gaze  travel  up  that  shining,  glimmering 
track,  and  while  I  looked  it  was  suddenly  flecked 
with  canoes.  Long  and  brown,  they  swung  down 
toward  me  like  strong-winged  birds  upheld  by 
the  path  of  the  sunrise. 

I  looked  back  at  the  Indians.  They,  too,  had 
seen  the  canoes,  but  they  made  no  sound  of  wel 
come.  Bedizened  and  wolf -eyed,  they  stood  in 
formal  ranks  as  attentive  as  children  at  a  pan 
tomime.  In  a  moment  the  canoes  took  clearer 
shape,  and  the  shine  of  the  paddles  could  be  seen 
as  the  flat  of  the  blades  slanted  toward  the  light. 
The  men  at  the  paddles  were  indistinguishable, 
crouching  shapes,  but  their  prisoner  was  stand 
ing.  He  stood  in  the  foremost  canoe,  and  as  his 
figure  was  outlined  against  the  sun  I  saw  that  he 
was  rigid  as  a  mummy.  I  turned  to  Cadillac. 
To  see  a  white  man  bound!  I  could  feel  the 
thongs  eating  into  my  own  flesh. 

"They  have  bound  the  Englishman!"  I  pro 
tested.  "Let  us  hope  that  they  are  not  daring 


THE  CAPTIVE  15 

enough  —  or  crazed  enough  —  to  make  him  sing 
to  grace  their  triumph." 

But  he  laughed  at  my  tone.  "What  does  it 
matter?"  he  shrugged.  "These  wards  of  mine 

—  my  happy  family  —  must  have  their  fete  in 
their  own  fashion,  or  they  will  ask  that  I  pay  the 
piper.    Well,  whatever  they  do,  the  prisoner  is  in 
our  hands,  and  it  will  be  long  before  he  escapes 
them.    Yes,  listen,  —  oh,  the  play-acting  dogs! 

—  they  are  making  him  sing  now." 

He  had  a  keen  ear,  for,  even  to  my  forest- 
trained  sense,  the  sound  came  but  faintly.  The 
crowd  hushed  its  breathing,  and  the  air  was 
unwholesomely  still.  A  dog  yelped,  and  an 
Indian  silenced  it  with  a  kick.  Each  paddle- 
stroke  threw  the  canoes  into  sharper  relief,  and 
we  could  distinguish  lank  arms,  and  streaming 
hair.  The  prisoner's  voice  echoed  as  clear  as 
if  he  were  in  some  great  playhouse,  and  were 
singing  to  gain  the  plaudits  of  a  friendly  throng. 

I  felt  my  blood  tingling  in  my  fingers'  ends. 
It  was  a  brave  song,  bravely  sung.  I  could  not 
understand  the  English  words,  but  the  sound 
was  rollicking  with  defiance.  It  was  a  glove 
thrown  in  our  faces ;  the  challenge  of  a  brave 
man  to  a  cowardly  foe. 

"The  plucky  beggar!"  I  said  half  aloud,  and 
I  set  my  teeth  hard. 

But  Cadillac  was  nudging  my  elbow.     "You 


16  MONTLIVET 

said  that  the  prisoner  was  a  man  of  importance," 
he  accused,  with  a  perplexed  frown.  "But,  lis 
ten!  He  has  the  voice  of  a  boy." 

I  was  greedy  to  hear,  so,  with  a  wave  of  the 
hand,  I  shook  Cadillac  away.  But,  in  truth,  I 
was  disturbed.  The  tones  were  certainly  boy 
ish. 

The  canoes  came  within  bowshot,  and  the 
hush  that  held  the  camp  suddenly  broke  like  the 
release  of  pent  waters.  There  were  yells  and 
stamping,  the  smash  of  tom-toms,  and  a  scatter 
ing  salvo  of  musketry.  It  was  a  united  roar 
that  shut  out  from  our  consciousness  the  thought 
of  the  calm  sky  and  the  silent  water. 

The  canoes  had  come  as  unswervingly  as  ar 
rows,  and  the  one  that  held  the  prisoner  landed 
at  my  feet.  I  looked  up,  and  met  his  eyes,  and 
I  swept  my  hat  from  my  head. 

"You  are  among  friends,"  I  called,  not  know 
ing  that  I  did  so. 

It  was  a  foolish  speech,  since  the  prisoner 
could  not  understand;  but  I  suppose  that  my 
tone  was  kind,  for  it  apparently  gave  him  cour 
age.  At  least,  a  flush  that  might  have  been  the 
color  of  returning  hope  rose  in  his  cheeks.  I 
was  relieved  at  his  appearance,  for  he  was  not 
the  little  lad  that  his  song  had  made  me  fear. 
He  was  slim  and  beardless,  but  there  were  sor 
row  and  understanding  in  his  look  that  could  not 


THE   CAPTIVE  17 

come  with  childhood.  For  the  rest,  he  was  dark 
and  gaunt  from  exposure  and  privation.  His 
rough  woolen  suit,  leather-lined,  hung  loosely 
on  him,  but  he  wore  it  with  a  jauntiness  that 
matched  the  bravado  of  his  song. 

Cadillac  came  forward  in  welcome.  He  was 
always  an  orator  that  the  Indians  themselves  en 
vied,  and  now  his  rhetoric  was  as  unhampered 
as  though  he  thought  that  the  prisoner  was  fol 
lowing  each  flowing  syllable.  As  he  unbound 
the  stiffened  arms  —  they  were  pitifully  thin 
and  small,  I  thought  —  he  called  all  mythology 
to  witness  his  deep  regret  that  this  indignity 
should  have  been  offered  to  his  brother  of  the 
white  race.  I  followed  him  and  listened,  stor 
ing  away  metaphors  even  as  I  carried  beads  in 
my  cargo.  I  should  need  all  the  eloquence  at  my 
command  before  the  close  of  the  summer,  and 
my  own  tongue  was  always  too  direct  of  speech. 

Cadillac  felt  me  at  his  elbow,  and  when  he 
saw  my  listening  face  he  stopped  to  give  me  a 
slow  wrink.  "Will  monsieur  turn  pupil  to  learn 
swaggering?"  he  asked,  with  an  upward  cock 
of  the  eye.  "I  had  thought  him  too  old  for  a 
school." 

I  bowled,  and  hated  myself  for  my  lagging 
wits  that  would  not  furnish  a  retort.  "  Never 
too  old  to  sit  at  your  feet,"  I  assured  him,  and  I 
went  away  knowing  that  I  had  been  slow,  and 


18  MONTLIVET 

that  the  honors  were  with  him,  but  knowing, 
also,  that  somehow  I  liked  the  man,  and  that  I 
should  drink  his  health  when  I  opened  my  next 
tierce  of  canary. 

I  went  to  find  my  men,  and  it  was  time  that  I 
bestirred  myself.  License  was  in  order,  and  the 
revel  assaulted  eyes,  ears,  and  nose,  till  a  white 
man  was  wise  if  he  forsook  his  dignity,  and  ran 
like  a  fox  to  cover.  The  air  was  surfeiting  with 
the  steam  of  food.  Dog-meat  bubbled  in  great 
caldrons,  and  maize  cakes  crackled  on  hot  stones. 
A  bear  had  been  brought  in,  and  was  being 
hacked  in  pieces  to  add  to  the  broth.  The  women 
did  this,  and  as  I  passed  them  they  stopped,  with 
their  hands  dripping  red,  and  shook  their  wam 
pum  necklaces  at  me,  and  pointed  meaningly 
toward  a  neighboring  hut,  where  I  had  been  told 
that  rum  could  be  bought  if  you  were  discreet  in 
choosing  your  occasion.  I  tossed  them  a  handful 
of  small  coins,  and  warned  them  in  Huron  that 
if  they  molested  my  men  I  should  report  them  to 
the  commandant.  I  felt  yet  more  haste  to  see 
my  canoes  under  way. 

I  was  plunging  on  in  this  fashion  when  Fa 
ther  Carheil  plucked  at  my  sleeve.  "Do  you 
think  you  are  running  from  the  Iroquois?"  he 
grumbled,  and  he  pushed  his  irritable,  brilliant 
face  close  to  mine.  It  was  an  old  face,  lined 
and  withered,  and  the  hair  above  it  was  scanty 


THE   CAPTIVE  19 

and  gray,  but  never  have  I  met  a  look  that 
showed  more  fire  and  unconquerable  will.  *  The 
commandant  wishes  you,"  he  went  on.  "He 
asked  me  to  fetch  you.  I  should  not  have  com 
plied  —  it  is  I  who  should  ask  services  of  him 
-  but  I  wished  to  speak  to  you  on  my  own  ac 
count.  Monsieur,  do  you  know  these  men  that 
you  have  in  your  employ?" 

I  nodded.  "As  well  as  I  know  my  own  heart. 
They  are  my  habitants." 

'  Your  habitants !  Then  you  have  a  seigniory  ? 
Why  do  you  not  stay  there  as  the  king  wishes  ?" 

I  shook  my  head  at  him.  ;'We  use  large 
words  in  this  new  land,  father.  Yes,  I  have  a 
seigniory.  That  is,  I  own  some  barren  acres 
near  Montreal  that  I  can  occupy  only  at  risk  of 
my  scalp.  As  to  the  king,  I  think  he  wishes  me 
to  trade,  —  at  least  I  carry  his  license  to  that 
effect.  But  what  are  my  men  doing?" 

The  Jesuit's  thin  old  hands  clutched  each  other. 
"They  are  turning  this  place  into  a  Sodom," 
he  said  passionately.  "They  are  drinking  and 
carousing  with  the  Indian  women.  You  traders 
are  our  ruin.  But  we  will  shut  you  out  of  the 
country  yet.  Mark  my  words.  Those  twenty- 
five  licenses  will  be  revoked  before  the  season 
ends,  and  you  will  have  to  find  other  excuses 
to  bring  your  rabble  here  to  debauch  our  mis 
sions." 


20  MONTLIVET 

In  view  of  what  I  had  just  seen,  I  felt  impa 
tient.  "You  do  my  handful  of  stolid  peasants 
too  much  honor,"  I  said  dryly.  "They  would 
need  more  wit  and  ingenuity  than  I  have  ever 
seen  in  them  to  be  able  to  teach  outlawry  to  any 
thing  that  they  find  here.  But  I  am  looking  for 
them  now.  You  will  pardon  me  if  I  hasten." 

But  his  hand  pulled  at  me.  "Is  one  of  your 
men  lipped  like  a  bull-moose  and  red  as  Rufus  ?" 

"Pierre  Boudin  to  the  life,"  I  chuckled. 
"What  deviltry  is  he  at  now?" 

The  priest's  face  lost  its  flame.  He  looked 
suddenly  the  old  man  worn  out  in  the  service  of 
a  savage  people.  "He  is  with  an  Ottawa  girl," 
he  said  sadly;  "a  girl  the  Indians  call  Singing 
Arrow  for  her  wit  and  her  laughter.  She  is  not 
a  convert,  but  she  is  a  good  girl.  I  wish  you 
would  get  your  man  away." 

I  felt  shame  for  my  man  and  myself.  "I  will 
go  at  once,"  I  promised  soberly.  "  I  will  be  west 
ward  bound  by  afternoon." 

The  old  priest  looked  at  me  with  friendly  eyes. 
"There  will  be  trouble  before  sundown,"  he  said 
gravely.  "If  you  wish  to  get  away,  go  quickly, 
or  you  may  not  go  at  all.  Now  you  must  report 
to  the  commandant." 

But  I  had  turned  my  face  the  other  way.  "  Not 
till  I  have  found  Pierre,"  I  returned. 

I  had  no  summer  stroll  before  me.     Pierre, 


THE  CAPTIVE  21 

Anak  that  he  was,  was  as  lost  as  a  leaf  in  a  whirl 
pool,  and  though  I  had  quick  eyes,  and  shoul 
ders  that  could  force  a  passage  for  me  in  a  crowd, 
I  could  see  no  sign  of  his  oriole  crest  of  red  head 
in  all  the  bobbing  multitude  of  blackbirds.  In 
stead  I  stumbled  upon  Cadillac. 

He  linked  his  arm  in  mine.  "Do  you  know," 
he  said  abruptly,  "the  prisoner  has  spirit  and  to 
spare.  He  may  be  a  man  of  importance  after 
all." 

I  answered  like  a  fool.  "I  think  not.  He  is 
dressed  like  a  yeoman." 

Cadillac  put  me  at  arm's  length,  and  puffed 
his  cheeks  with  silent  laughter.  "Plumage,  eh? 
Are  you  willing  to  be  judged  by  your  own?" 
He  stopped  to  let  his  glance  rest  on  my  shabby 
gear.  "Truly  it  must  be  a  long  year  since  you 
fronted  a  mirror,  or  you  would  not  be  so  com 
placent.  No,  monsieur,  the  prisoner  is  a  gentle 
man.  No  yeoman  ever  carried  his  head  with 
such  a  poise.  But  who  is  he  ?  I  would  give  all 
the  pistoles  in  my  pocket  —  though,  in  faith, 
they  're  few  enough  —  if  I  could  understand 
English.  But  you  may  be  able  to  help  me.  Go 
speak  to  the  prisoner  in  Huron.  He  must  have 
picked  up  something  of  the  Indian  speech  in  his 
trip  here." 

This  was  my  opportunity.  "Monsieur,"  I 
said,  "  I  should  like  an  understanding.  Re- 


22  MONTLIVET 

member  how  little  all  this  can  mean  to  me,  —  a 
trader,  —  and  do  not  think  me  churlish  if  I  try  to 
keep  myself  free  from  this  intrigue.  I  will  go  to 
the  prisoner  now,  if  you  wish;  but,  that  done,  I 
beg  you  to  hold  me  excused  of  any  further  ser 
vice  in  this  matter." 

Cadillac  looked  me  over,  and  now  his  glance 
went,  not  to  my  doublet,  but  to  the  man  within. 
"A  trader!"  he  said  curtly.  "A  trader  carry 
ing  contraband  brandy.  A  good  commandant 
would  send  you  back  where  you  belong.  No, 
no,  monsieur,  wait!  I  am  not  threatening  you. 
Though  you  know  as  well  as  I  that  the  thumb 
screws  are  rather  convenient  to  my  hand  should 
I  care  to  use  them.  But  there  should  be  no 
necessity  for  that.  Montlivet,  I  hardly  under 
stand  your  reluctance  in  the  matter  of  this  Eng 
lishman.  We  should  be  one  in  this  affair,  what 
ever  our  private  concerns.  Even  Black  Gown 
and  I  -  -  and  the  world  says  we  are  not  lovers 
-  are  working  together.  Why  do  you  draw 
back?" 

I  could  not  meet  him  with  less  than  the  truth. 
"  You  have  stated  the  reason,  monsieur.  My 
private  concerns,  —  they  seem  large  to  me,  and 
I  fear  to  jeopard  them  by  becoming  entangled 
here.  I  regret  this.  You  have  shown  me  great 
clemency  in  the  matter  of  the  brandy,  —  though 
if  you  had  confiscated  it  I  should  still  have 


THE   CAPTIVE  23 

pushed  on,  —  and  for  that,  and  for  your  own 
sake,  monsieur,  I  should  be  glad  to  serve  you." 

He  looked  at  my  outstretched  palm,  and  laid 
his  own  upon  it.  'T  is  fairly  spoken,"  he  said 
slowly,  "  and  I  think  you  mean  it."  Then  he  grew 
peevish.  "A  pest  on  this  country!"  he  cried. 
"We  are  all  kings  in  disguise,  and  have  a 
monarchy  hidden  in  our  hats.  And  what  does  it 
amount  to?  No  bread,  no  wine,  no  thanks;  a 
dog's  life  and  a  jackal's  death,  —  and  all  to  hold 
some  leagues  of  barren  land  for  his  petticoat- 
ridden  majesty  at  Versailles.  Oh,  why  not  say 
it?  We  can  tell  the  truth  here  without  losing 
our  heads." 

"The  king's  arm"     -  I  began. 

"Is  long,"  he  interrupted.  'Yet,  in  truth, 
your  face  is  longer.  Are  you  so  eager  to  be 
gone  ?  Well,  get  you  to  the  prisoner,  and,  my 
hand  on  it,  I  shall  ask  for  nothing  more." 


CHAPTER  III 

BEHIND  THE  COMMANDANT'S  DOOR 

THE  commandant's  door  had  come  to  be  the 
portal  through  which  I  stepped  from  safety  into 
meddling.  Yet  I  opened  it  now  with  laughter 
peeping  from  my  sleeve.  To  bait  the  English 
man  in  Huron  seemed  a  good-natured  enough 
jest,  and  full  of  possibilities. 

But  one  look  at  the  prisoner  drained  my 
laughter.  He  was  lying  on  a  bench,  his  face 
hidden  in  his  out-flung  arms,  and  his  slenderness 
and  helplessness  pulled  at  me  hard.  I  knew 
that  despair,  and  even  tears,  must  have  con 
quered  now  that  he  was  alone,  and  I  wished 
that  I  might  save  his  pride,  and  slip  away  until 
he  had  fought  back  his  bravery,  and  had  him 
self  in  hand. 

But  he  had  heard  my  step,  and  drew  himself 
up  to  face  me.  He  turned  with  composure,  and 
fronted  me  with  so  much  dignity  that  I  stood 
like  a  blundering  oaf  trapped  by  my  own  emotion. 
There  was  no  emotion  in  his  look.  He  had 
been  thinking,  not  despairing,  and  his  face  was 
sharpened  and  lighted  with  such  concentration 
that  I  felt  slapped  with  cold  steel.  He  looked 


THE  COMMANDANT'S  DOOR      25 

all  intellect  and  determination,  —  a  thing  of  will 
power  rather  than  flesh  and  brawrn. 

My  Huron  speech  seemed  out  of  place,  but 
there  was  no  choice  left  me,  so  I  used  it.  There 
was  refuge  for  my  dignity  in  the  sonorous  sylla 
bles,  and  I  spoke  as  to  a  fellow  sachem.  Then 
I  asked  the  prisoner  his  name,  and  waited  for 
response. 

None  came.  I  knew  that  I  had  spoken 
rapidly,  so  I  tried  again.  I  chose  short  words, 
and  framed  my  sentences  like  a  schoolmaster. 

The  prisoner  listened  negligently.  Then  he 
put  out  his  hand.  "Pardon,  monsieur.  But  I 
speak  French,  —  though  indifferently,"  he  said, 
with  a  slight  shrug. 

My  anger  made  my  ears  buzz;  I  would  not 
bandy  words  with  a  man  of  so  small  and  sly  a 
spirit.  I  turned  to  leave. 

But  the  prisoner  stepped  between  me  and  the 
door.  "You  were  sent  here  with  a  message," 
he  said;  "I  am  listening." 

His  sunken  brown  eyes  were  so  deep  in  melan 
choly  that  I  could  not  hold  my  wrath.  "Was 
it  a  gentleman's  part  to  lead  me  on  to  play  the 
clown?"  I  asked.  "I  came  in  kindness." 

He  smiled  a  little,  —  a  bitter  smile  that  did  not 
reach  his  eyes.  "I  am  not,  like  you,  a  gentle 
man  by  birth,  monsieur,"  he  said  slowly,  "and 
so  often  trip  in  my  behavior.  Granted  that  you 


26  MONTLIVET 

were  amusing,  —  and  you  were,  monsieur,  — 
can  you  blame  me  for  using  you  for  a  diversion  ? 
I  infer  that  you  have  come  to  tell  me  that  the 
time  left  me,  either  for  amusement  or  penitence, 
is  short." 

It  was  bravely  said,  but  I  knew  from  the  care 
ful  repression  of  his  tone  that  his  hardness  was  a 
brittle  veneer.  He  was  young  to  carry  so  bold 
a  front  when  his  heart  must  be  hammering,  and 
I  would  willingly  have  talked  any  doggerel  to  have 
afforded  him  another  smile. 

"I  know  nothing  of  your  future,"  I  hastened, 
"  save  that,  arguing  from  your  youth,  it  will  prob 
ably  be  a  long  one.  It  was  your  past  that  I  was 
sent  to  ask  concerning.  The  commandant  sent 
me.  Since  you  speak  French,  my  mission  is 
over.  The  commandant  will  come  himself." 

The  prisoner  laid  his  hand  upon  a  chair. 
"Will  you  sit?  I  would  rather  it  be  you  than 
the  commandant,  if  it  must  be  any  one.  What 
were  you  sent  to  ask?" 

I  waved  away  the  chair,  for  I  thought  of  the 
passing  moments  and  of  what  I  had  promised 
Father  Carheil.  "I  must  hasten,"  I  said  irrita 
bly.  "What  was  I  to  ask?  Why,  your  name, 
the  account  of  your  capture,  —  the  story  of  your 
being  here,  in  brief." 

He  saw  that  I  glanced  at  the  door,  and  he 
walked  over  to  it.  "Wait!"  he  interposed.  "I 


THE  COMMANDANT'S  DOOR      27 

can    answer  you  in  a  line.     But   one    question 
first.     Monsieur,  I  —  I" 
'Yes,  monsieur." 

"Monsieur,  I  —  I  must  think  a  moment. 
Be  patient,  if  you  will." 

His  voice  was  calm,  but  there  was  something 
in  his  look  that  forced  my  pity.  "Tell  me 
nothing  that  I  must  not  tell  the  commandant," 
I  warned.  "But  be  assured  of  my  good  will." 

I  think  he  did  not  hear.  He  sat  with  his 
forehead  on  his  hand,  and  I  knew  that  he  was 
thinking.  He  looked  up  with  a  new  decision  in 
his  glance. 

"  Monsieur,  you  lead  a  strange  life  in  this  place. 
I  see  nothing  but  men.  Have  you  no  families  ?" 

I  swore  under  my  breath.  I  had  expected 
some  meat  from  his  remark,  and  he  gave  me 
trivialities.  I  had  no  time  for  social  prelimi 
naries,  and  I  felt  sudden  distaste  for  him.  I 
pointed  him  to  the  window. 

"We  are  not  all  men.  There  are  Indian 
women  in  plenty.  Shall  I  draw  the  shade  that 
you  may  see  ?  There  are  many  of  my  country 
men  to  tell  you  that  they  find  them  fair." 

"But  are  there  no  white  families  in  the 
settlement?"  He  was  leaning  forward,  and  he 
ignored  the  insult  of  my  air. 

I  shook  my  head.  "None,  monsieur.  None 
short  of  Montreal." 


28  MONTLIVET 

He  tapped  the  floor,  and  frowned.  His  look 
went  beyond  me,  and  he  was  absorbed.  "None 
short  of  Montreal.  Indeed  you  live  a  strange 
life.  Monsieur,  is  it  far  to  Montreal?" 

I  shrugged.  "Yes,  it  is  a  long  journey. 
Come,  monsieur,  we  waste  time.  I  wish  you 
good-day." 

He  glanced  up  quickly.  His  was  a  mislead 
ing  face,  for  while  his  words  were  meaningless, 
and  showed  him  of  a  small  and  trifling  mind,  his 
look  was  yet  keen.  He  saw  that  I  had  wearied 
of  him,  and  he  put  out  his  hand  to  beg  my  at 
tention. 

"Wait,  monsieur!"  he  cried. 

"Monsieur,  you  waste  my  time." 

"  I  shall  waste  no  more.  I  have  made  up  my 
mind.  Listen.  I  promised  you  my  story."  He 
had  regained  all  his  quiet  arrogance.  "It  is 
soon  told.  I  am  an  Englishman,  —  or  a  colonist, 
if  you  like  the  term  better.  I  was  in  a  village 
on  the  Connecticut  frontier,  when  your  savages 
came  down  upon  us.  No,  I  am  wrong.  They 
did  nothing  so  manly  as  to  come  down  upon  us 
boldly.  They  slid  among  us  like  foul  vermin 
afraid  of  the  light.  They  achieved  a  notable 
victory,  monsieur.  I  see  that  you  recognize 
their  prowess,  and  that  the  feast  you  have  pre 
pared  for  them  is  lavish.  It  was  a  noble  battle- 
I  regret  you  could  not  have  seen  it.  There  were 


THE  COMMANDANT'S  DOOR      29 

some  hundreds  of  the  Indians,  and  a  scattering 
handful  of  us.  A  quiet  farming  community, 
monsieur,  that  worked  hard,  supped  early,  and 
slept  the  deep  sleep  of  quiet  living  and  sober 
minds.  We  waked  to  find  the  scalping  knives  at 
our  throats,  and  the  death  scream  of  children  in 
our  ears.  Look  over  the  bags  of  scalps,  and  see 
the  number  of  women  and  old  men  that  your 
braves  had  to  overcome.  You  will  be  proud  of 
them,  monsieur." 

I  clenched  my  hand,  and  wished  myself  else 
where.  "But  our  Hurons  say  they  were  neu 
tral,"  I  defended. 

He  lifted  his  brows.  "You  prefer  to  give  all 
the  praise  to  the  Algon quins  ?"he  asked  smoothly. 
"I  understand.  Yes,  I  have  heard  that  the 
Algonquins  stand  even  closer  to  you  than  your 
Hurons  here.  They  are  more  than  brothers. 
Indeed,  it  is  said  that  your  Count  Frontenac  calls 
them  his  children.  Well,  they  did  you  credit. 
It  took  ten  of  them  to  silence  Goodman  Ellwood's 
musket,  but  they  butchered  him  in  the  end.  If 
you  find  a  scalp  with  long  silky  white  hair,  mon 
sieur,  it  belongs  to  John  Ellwood.  Value  it,  and 
nail  it  among  your  trophies,  for  it  cost  you  the 
lives  of  a  full  half-dozen  Algonquin  braves." 

I  kept  my  eyes  down.  I  had  come  here  to 
unearth  a  certain  fact,  and  I  would  pursue  it. 
"But  were  the  Hurons  neutral?"  I  persisted. 


30  MONTLIVET 

I  could  not  even  guess  at  what  raw  nerve  I 
touched,  but  he  suddenly  threw  his  arms  wide 
as  men  do  when  a  shot  is  mortal.  His  cool  in 
solence  dropped  from  him,  and  he  was  all  fire 
and  helpless  defiance.  He  stamped  his  foot,  till, 
slender  as  he  was,  the  boards  rang.  "Were  the 
Hurons  neutral?"  he  mocked,  in  a  voice  so  like 
my  own  I  could  have  sworn  it  was  an  echo. 
"What  manner  of  man  are  you  ?  Are  you  made 
of  chalk  ?  If  you  had  seen  a  child's  brains 
dashed  out  against  a  tree,  would  you  stop  to  ask 
the  Indian  who  held  the  dripping  corpse  what 
dialect  he  spoke  ?  Oh,  a  man  should  be  ashamed 
to  live  who  has  seen  such  things,  and  who  keeps 
his  sword  sheathed  while  one  of  your  Indian 
family  —  brothers  or  children -- remains  alive! 
If  you  had  blood  in  your  veins,  you  would  be 
man  enough  not  to  put  even  an  enemy  upon  the 
rack,  in  this  way,  and  force  him  to  live  that  time 
over  to  glut  your  curiosity.  Here  is  my  answer, 
which  you  may  take  to  your  commandant.  I  am 
an  Englishman,  I  am  your  prisoner,  and  you  are 
to  remember  that  I  am,  first,  last,  and  at  all 
times,  your  foe.  Now  go  to  your  commandant, 
and  tell  him  to  keep  himself  and  his  schoolboy 
orations  out  of  my  way." 

He  was  shaking,  and  his  face  was  dead  white. 
I  did  not  answer,  but  I  took  him  by  the  arm, 
and  led  him  to  a  chair.  He  tried  to  resist,  but  I 


THE  COMMANDANT'S  DOOR       31 

am  strong.  Then  I  brought  him  a  cup  of  water 
from  a  pail  that  stood  near  by. 

"  Drink  it,"  I  said,  "  and  when  food  is  sent  you, 
eat  what  you  can.  Your  race  is  not  over,  and  if 
you  wish  to  trick  and  outwit  us,  —  as  you  were 
planning  when  I  found  you  lying  here,  —  you 
will  need  more  strength  than  you  are  showing 
now.  I  have  but  one  more  question.  You  must 
tell  me  your  name." 

For  a  moment  he  did  not  reply.  He  was  still 
shaking  painfully,  and  water  from  the  cup  in  his 
hand  splashed  over  him.  "My  name,"  he  said 
slowly,  "my  name  is  —  is  Benjamin  Starling." 

I  took  the  cup  away.  "I  am  waiting,"  I  said 
after  a  pause. 

"Waiting  for  what,  monsieur?"  When  he 
willed,  he  could  speak  winningly,  and  he  did  it 
now. 

I  took  paper  from  my  pocket.  "For  your 
real  name,"  I  answered.  "I  shall  write  it  here, 
and  you  must  swear  that  it  is  true.  Don't 
squander  lies.  Plain  dealing  will  be  best  for  us 
both." 

He  was  as  changeable  as  June  weather. 
Now  it  was  his  cue  to  look  pleading.  "  The 
Indians  called  me  by  a  name  that  meant  bitter 
waters,"  he  said  hesitatingly.  "But  my  bap 
tismal  records  say  Starling.  I  am  telling  you 
the  truth,  monsieur." 


32  MONTLIVET 

I  wrote  the  name  so  that  he  could  see.  'You 
give  me  your  word  as  a  gentleman,"  I  said,  "that 
your  name  is  Benjamin  Starling." 

He  stopped  a  moment.  "Can  a  yeoman 
swear  himself  a  gentleman?"  he  asked.  "I 
think  not.  I  will  be  more  explicit.  I  give  you 
my  oath  as  a  truth-loving  person  that  my  name 
is  Starling." 

I  put  up  the  paper.  ''Thank  you,"  I  said. 
"And  now,  Monsieur  Starling,  we  will  say  good- 
by.  I  am  only  a  chance  wayfarer  here,  and 
leave  in  an  hour.  I  cannot  wish  you  success, 
since  you  are  my  foe,  but  I  can  wish  you  a  safe 
return  to  your  own  kind.  I  hope  that  we  shall 
meet  again.  When  I  am  dealing  with  a  foe  that 
I  respect,  I  prefer  him  with  his  hands  unbound. 
Good-day,  monsieur." 

But  he  was  before  me  at  the  door.  I  saw  that 
my  news  troubled  him. 

"You  mean,"  he  asked,  "that  you  are  leav 
ing  here  for  several  days?" 

I  laid  my  hand  on  the  latch.  "No,"  I 
answered.  "I  leave  for  several  months,  mon 
sieur." 

"For  months!  Oh  no!"  he  cried,  and  he 
drew  back  and  looked  at  me.  "Then  I  am  like 
never  to  see  you  again,"  he  said  thoughtfully. 
"You  have  been  kind  to  me."  He  suddenly 
thrust  out  his  hand.  "Monsieur,  I  will  be 


THE  COMMANDANT'S  DOOR       33 

more    generous    than    you.      I    wish    you    suc 
cess." 

But  I  would  not  take  his  hand  on  those  terms. 
"Don't!"  I  said  roughly.  "You  cannot  wish 
me  success.  It  will  mean  failure  to  you  —  to 
your  people.  No,  we  are  foes,  and  let  us  wear 
our  colors  honestly.  Again,  I  wish  you  good- 
day;"  and,  bowing,  I  raised  the  latch,  and  made 
my  way  out  of  the  commandant's  door. 


CHAPTER    IV 

IN    THE    OTTAWA    CAMP 

CHANCE  was  disposed  to  be  in  a  good  humor.  I 
had  scarcely  stepped  into  the  crowd  when  I  saw 
Pierre. 

I  went  to  him  knowing  that  I  should  find 
opportunity  for  reproof,  but  should  probably 
lack  the  will.  For  Pierre  was  my  harlequin, 
and  what  man  can  easily  censure  his  own  amuse 
ments  even  when  he  sees  their  harm  ?  Then 
there  was  more  to  make  me  lenient.  The  man's 
family  had  served  my  own  for  as  many  genera 
tions  as  the  rooks  had  builded  in  our  yews,  and 
so,  on  one  side  at  least,  he  inherited  blind  loyalty 
to  my  name.  I  say  on  one  side,  for  his  blood 
was  mixed;  his  father  had  married  a  vagrant,  a 
half-gypsy  Irish  girl  who  begged  among  the 
villages.  It  was  the  union  of  a  stolid  ox  and  a 
wildcat,  and  I  had  much  amusement  watching 
the  two  breeds  fight  for  the  mastery  in  the  huge 
Pierre.  The  cat  was  quicker  of  wit,  but  the  ox 
was  of  more  use  to  me  in  the  long  run,  so  I  tried 
to  keep  an  excess  of  stimulants  —  whether  of 
brandy  or  adventure  —  out  of  Pierre's  way. 

He  was  a  figure  for  Bacchus  when  I  found  him, 


IN  THE  OTTAWA  CAMP  35 

and  I  pricked  at  him  with  my  sword,  and  drove 
him  to  the  water,  where  I  saw  him  well  im 
mersed. 

"Now  for  quick  work,"  I  admonished.  "I 
must  see  the  commandant,  but  only  for  a 
moment.  You  gather  the  men,  and  have  the 
canoes  in  waiting.  There  will  be  no  tobacco 
for  you  to-night,  if  you  are  not  ready  when  I 
come." 

He  shook  the  water  from  his  red  locks,  and 
wagged  his  head  in  much  more  docile  fashion 
than  I  had  expected.  "  My  master  cannot  go  too 
fast  for  me,"  he  said,  with  a  twist  of  his  great  pro 
truding  lip.  "I  have  no  liking  for  white  meat 
broth  myself." 

He  drew  back  like  one  who  has  hit  a  bull's- 
eye  and  wraited  for  me  to  ask  questions,  but  I 
thought  that  I  knew  my  man,  and  laughed  at  his 
childishness. 

"No  more  of  that!"  I  said  with  perfunctory 
sternness.  "  What  pot-house  rabble  of  Indians 
have  you  been  with  that  you  should  prattle  of 
making  broth  of  white  men,  and  dare  bring  such 
speech  to  me  as  a  jest!  That  is  not  talk  for 
civilized  men,  and  if  you  repeat  it  I  shall  send 
you  back  to  France.  You  are  more  familiar 
with  the  savages  than  I  like  a  man  of  mine 
to  be.  Remember  that,  Pierre.  Now  go." 

But  he  lingered.     "It  is  no  pot-house  story," 


36  MONTLIVET 

he  defended  sulkily.  "The  Ottawas  say  they 
will  go  to  war  if  the  prisoner  is  not  put  in  the  pot 
before  to-morrow  morning.  And  what  can  the 
commandant  do  ?  The  Ottawas  are  two  thou 
sand  strong." 

I  knew,  without  comment,  that  he  was  telling 
me  the  truth,  and  I  stood  still.  The  din  of  the 
dancing  and  feasting  was  growing  more  and 
more  uproarious,  and  the  Indians  were  ripe  for 
any  insanity.  I  saw  that  the  sun  was  already 
casting  long  shadows,  and  that  the  night  would 
be  on  us  before  many  hours.  I  looked  at  the 
garrison.  Two  hundred  Frenchmen  all  told, 
and  most  of  them  half-hearted  when  it  came  to 
defending  an  Englishman  and  a  foe!  I  turned 
to  my  man. 

'You  have  been  with  an  Ottawa  girl,  called 
Singing  Arrow,"  I  said.  "Are  you  bringing  me 
some  woman's  tale  you  learned  from  her?" 

He  squirmed  like  a  clumsy  puppy,  but  I  could 
see  his  pride  in  my  omniscience.  "  She  is  smarter 
than  a  man,"  he  said  vaguely. 

And  Pierre  were  the  man,  I  thought  that 
likely.  'Take  me  to  her,"  I  commanded. 

I  expected  to  follow  him  among  the  revelers, 
but  he  turned  his  back  on  them,  and  led  the  way 
through  a  labyrinth  of  huts,  a  maze  so  winding 
that  I  judged  him  more  sober  than  I  had  thought. 
When  we  found  the  girl,  she  was  alone,  and  I 


IN  THE  OTTAWA  CAMP  37 

saw  from  her  look  that  this  was  not  the  first 
visit  Pierre  had  made. 

He  summoned  her  importantly,  while  I  with 
drew  to  a  distance,  that  I  might  have  her  brought 
to  me  in  form.  I  was  intent  and  uneasy,  but  I 
had  room  in  my  heart  for  vain  self-satisfaction 
that  I  knew  something  of  the  Ottawa  speech. 
My  proficiency  in  Indian  dialects,  for  which  the 
world  praised  me  lightly,  as  it  might  commend 
the  cut  of  my  doublet,  had  cost  me  much  drudg 
ery  and  denial,  and  my  moments  of  reward  were 
rare. 

Singing  Arrow  came  forward,  and  curtsied 
as  the  priests  had  taught  her.  I  was  forced  to 
approve  my  man's  taste.  Not  that  she  was 
beautiful  to  my  eyes,  for  brown  women  were 
never  to  my  liking ;  but  she  had  youth  and  neat 
ness,  and  when  she  raised  her  eyes  I  saw  that 
I  might  look  for  intelligence  and  daring.  I  mo 
tioned  her  to  come  nearer. 

"Singing  Arrow,"  I  said,  in  somewhat  halt 
ing  Ottawa,  "my  man  here  tells  me  that  your 
people  are  talking  as  if  they  were  asleep,  and 
were  dreaming  that  they  were  all  kings.  Now 
when  a  dog  barks  at  the  moon,  we  do  not  stop 
to  tremble  for  the  safety  of  the  moon,  but  we 
ask  what  is  the  matter  with  the  dog.  That  is 
what  I  would  ask  of  you.  What  do  the  Otta- 
was  care  what  Monsieur  de  la  Mothe-Cadillac, 


38  MONTLIVET 

the  commandant,  does  with  the  English  pris 
oner?" 

She  thought  a  moment,  and  plaited  the  folds 
of  her  beaver-skin  skirt  as  I  have  seen  many  a 
white  girl  do.  "I  know  of  no  dog,"  she  said, 
with  a  slow  upward  glance  that  tried  to  gauge  my 
temper.  "And  as  for  the  moon,  it  shines  alike 
on  the  grass  and  the  tall  trees,  and  I  have  seen  no 
Frenchman  yet  who  could  reach  up  and  pluck 
it  from  its  place.  But  I  have  seen  a  chain  that 
was  once  bright  like  silver  grow  dull  and  eaten 
with  rust.  A  wise  man  will  throw  such  a  chain 
away,  and  ask  for  a  new  one." 

I  shrugged.  'You  have  sharp  eyes,"  I  said, 
shrugging  yet  more,  "if  you  can  see  rust  on  the 
covenant  chain  that  binds  the  French  to  the 
Ottawas.  Is  that  what  you  mean?" 

She  looked  up  with  a  flash  of  fun  and  diablerie 
such  as  I  never  thought  to  see  in  a  savage  face. 
'Then  monsieur  has  seen  it  himself?" 

Now  this  would  not  do;  I  would  leave  all 
gallantries  to  my  subordinate.  'This  is  idle 
talk,"  I  said,  as  I  lit  my  pipe,  and  prepared  as 
if  to  go.  "It  is  the  clatter  of  water  among 
stones  that  makes  a  great  noise,  but  goes  no 
where.  I  have  seen  many  strange  things  in  my 
life,  but  never  a  cat  that  could  fight  fair,  nor 
a  woman  that  could  answer  a  direct  question. 
Look  at  this  now.  I  ask  you  about  the  Eng- 


39 

lish  prisoner,  and  you  talk  to  me  of  covenant 
chains." 

She  looked  at  me  with  impassive  good  humor, 
her  hands  busy  with  her  wampum  necklaces, 
and  I  saw,  not  only  that  I  had  failed  to  entrap 
her  into  losing  her  temper,  but  that  I  was  deal 
ing  with  a  quick-witted  woman  of  a  race  whose 
women  were  trained  politicians.  But,  for  reasons 
of  her  own,  she  chose  to  answer  me  fairly. 

;<The  Frenchman  is  right,"  she  said,  with  a 
second  swift  upward  look  to  test  the  ice  where 
she  was  venturing.  "I  was  wrong  to  talk  of 
the  covenant  between  the  French  and  my  peo 
ple,  for  the  chain  is  too  weak  to  bear  even  the 
weight  of  words.  It  is  rusted  till  it  is  as  useless 
as  a  band  of  grasses  to  bind  a  wild  bull.  But 
blood  will  cleanse  rust.  What  can  the  French 
want  with  their  enemy,  the  Englishman  ?  Why 
should  not  the  prisoner's  blood  be  used  to 
brighten  the  chain  between  the  Ottawas  and 
the  French?" 

Now  this  was  plain  language.  I  listened  to 
the  girl's  speech,  which  was  as  gently  cadenced 
as  if  she  talked  of  flowers  or  summer  pleasures, 
and  thought  that  here  was  indeed  snake's  venom 
offered  as  a  sweetmeat.  But  why  did  she  warn 
me  ?  I  had  a  flash  of  sense.  I  went  to  her,  and 
compelled  her  to  stop  playing  with  her  necklaces, 
and  raise  her  eyes  to  mine. 


40  MONTLIVET 

"Answer  me,  Singing  Arrow,"  I  commanded. 

'You  are  repeating  what  was  said  in  council, 

but  you  do  not  agree  with  it.     You  would  like 

to  save  the  prisoner.     Look  at  me  again.     Am 

I  right?" 

I  could  as  well  have  held  an  eel.  She  slipped 
from  my  hands,  and  ran  back  to  her  lodge. 
"So!"  she  cried,  as  she  lifted  the  mat  before 
her  door.  "So  it  is  not  the  dog  alone  that 
smells  at  its  food  before  it  will  eat.  Why  stay 
here  ?  I  have  given  you  what  you  came  to  find. 
Take  it."  And  with  a  look  at  Pierre  she  dis 
appeared. 

Pierre  gave  a  great  bellow  of  laughter.  "I 
will  catch  her,"  he  volunteered,  and  made  a 
plunge  in  the  direction  of  the  lodge;  but  I 
caught  him  by  the  hood  of  his  blanket  coat,  and 
let  his  own  impetus  choke  him. 

"Now  look  you,  Pierre  Boudin,"  I  said,  "if 
you  cross  the  door  of  that  lodge  on  any  errand, 
-  on  any  errand,  mind  you,  —  you  are  no  longer 
man  of  mine.  I  mean  that;  you  are  no  longer 
man  of  mine.  Now  begone.  Gather  the  men, 
go  to  the  canoes,  and  wait  there  till  I  come.  I 
may  come  soon;  I  may  not  come  till  morning." 

Pierre  was  still  swelling.  "As  the  master 
wishes,"  he  said,  with  his  eyes  down;  but  I 
thought  that  he  hesitated,  and  I  called  him  to 
me. 


IN  THE  OTTAWA  CAMP  41 

"Pierre,"  I  said,  "do  you  want  to  be  sent 
back  to  Montreal,  and  have  Fra^ois  Labarthe 
put  in  your  place?" 

The  giant  looked  up  to  see  how  much  I  was 
in  earnest,  and,  as  I  returned  his  look,  all  his 
bravado  oozed  away.  It  does  not  seem  quite 
the  part  of  a  man  to  cow  a  subordinate  till  he 
looks  at  you  with  the  eyes  of  a  whipped  hound; 
but  it  was  the  only  method  to  use  with  Pierre, 
and  I  went  away  satisfied. 

I  turned  my  steps  toward  the  main  camp  of 
Ottawas,  and  there  I  idled  for  an  hour.  The 
braves  were  good-humored  with  me,  for  I  was 
a  trader,  not  an  officer,  and  their  noses  were 
keen  for  the  brandy  that  I  might  have  for 
barter.  So  that  I  was  free  to  watch  them  at 
their  gambling,  or  dip  my  ladle  in  their  kettles 
if  I  willed.  All  this  was  good,  but  it  went  no 
further.  With  all  my  artifices,  I  could  not 
make  my  way  into  the  great  circle  around  the 
camp  fire,  and  I  grew  sore  with  my  incapacity, 
for  I  saw  that  Longuant,  the  most  powerful 
chief  of  the  Ottawas,  was  speaking.  I  picked 
up  a  bone  and  threw  it  among  the  dogs  with 
an  oath  for  my  own  slowness. 

The  bone  was  greasy,  and  I  took  out  my 
handkerchief,  but  before  I  could  use  it  to  wipe  my 
hands,  a  young  squaw  pushed  her  way  up  to 
me,  and  offered  her  long  black  hair  as  a  napkin. 


42  MONTLIVET 

She  threw  the  oily  length  across  my  arm,  and 
flattered  me  in  fluent  Ottawa. 

Then  I  forgot  myself.  The  body  frequently 
plays  traitor  in  emergencies,  and  my  repugnance 
conquered  me  so  that  I  pushed  her  away  before 
I  had  time  to  think.  Then  I  knew  that  I  must 
make  amends. 

"The  beauty  of  your  hair  is  like  the  black 
ice  with  the  moon  on  it,"  I  said  in  Ottawa. 
'You  must  not  soil  it." 

She  giggled  with  pleasure  to  hear  me  use  her 
own  tongue,  and  would  have  come  close  to  me 
again,  but  I  motioned  her  away. 

"Stay  there,  and  catch  this,"  I  called,  and  I 
tossed  her  a  small  coin. 

For  all  her  squat  figure  and  her  broad,  dull 
face,  she  was  quick  of  action  as  a  weasel.  She 
put  her  hands  behind  her,  and,  thrusting  her 
head  forward,  caught  the  coin  in  her  teeth. 
It  was  well  done;  so  well  that  I  said  "Brava, " 
and  the  braves  around  me  gave  approving 
grunts. 

"Look  at  the  stupid  Frenchman!"  I  heard 
a  brave  say.  "For  all  his  red  coat,  and  his 
manners,  he  cannot  catch  as  well  as  a  squaw." 

I  pointed  my  finger  at  him,  and  twirled  my 
mustaches  as  if  I  were  playing  villain  in  a 
comedy.  "A  Frenchman  does  not  stoop  to 
catch  money,"  I  vaunted,  with  my  arm  akimbo. 


IN  THE  OTTAWA  CAMP  43 

"Money  is  for  slaves  and  women.  Give  the 
Frenchman  a  spear,  a  man's  weapon,  and  then 
see  if  he  can  be  beaten  at  throwing  by  a 
squaw." 

There  was  a  laugh  at  this,  and  the  squaw  to 
whom  I  had  thrown  the  coin  seized  a  sturgeon 
spear  that  leaned  against  a  kettle,  and  hurled  it 
at  me.  I  turned  my  back,  and  caught  it  over 
my  shoulder.  There  was  a  hush  among  the 
braves  for  a  moment,  then  a  low  growl  of 
applause.  "Let  him  do  it  again,"  several 
voices  cried. 

I  did  it  again,  and  yet  again,  in  varying  ways. 
The  squaw  threw  well,  and  caught  better,  but 
she  was  no  match  for  my  longer  reach  and  bet 
ter  training.  Still  we  kept  the  spear  hurtling. 
With  each  throw  I  backed  a  pace  or  two  toward 
the  council  fire,  and  the  crowd  made  way  for 
me. 

;<This  is  enough,"  I  cried  at  length.  "Have 
you  no  men  among  you  who  can  throw  better 
than  your  women?" 

A  dozen  braves,  each  clamoring,  leaped  for 
ward,  but  before  I  could  select  one  of  them,  a 
young  Huron  elbowed  his  way  into  the  midst  of 
th  m  and  placed  himself  before  me. 

''Try  your  skill  with  me,"  he  cried,  striking 
his  breast,  and  though  he  spoke  a  broken 
mixture  of  Huron  and  Ottawa,  his  air  was  so 


44  MONTLIVET 

rhetorical  that  the  Ottawas,  always  keen  for  a 
dramatic  moment,  stopped  to  listen. 

I  balanced  the  spear  in  my  hand.  "I  am 
trying  my  skill  with  the  Ottawas,"  I  said. 
"Since  when  has  Pemaou,  the  Huron,  forsaken 
his  own  camp?" 

The  Huron  drew  back.  He  was  a  son  of 
that  adroit  traitor,  the  Baron,  and  what  his 
presence  in  this  camp  meant,  I  could  only 
surmise.  But  that  he  was  of  the  Baron's  blood 
was  enough  for  me,  and  I  was  prepared  to 
dislike  him  without  searching  for  excuse.  He, 
on  his  part,  looked  equally  unfriendly.  He 
resented  my  recognition,  and  taking  his  war 
spear  from  his  belt  he  sent  it  at  me  with  a 
vicious  fling. 

This  heated  my  blood.  I  caught  the  spear, 
and  tested  it  across  my  knee.  It  was  pliant 
but  tough,  and  wickedly  barbed,  —  a  weapon  for 
a  man  to  respect.  "So  you  wanted  the  color 
of  my  blood,"  I  called  angrily.  'You  have 
a  good  spear;  all  that  was  lacking  was  a  man 
to  aim  it;  "  and  with  a  contemptuous  laugh  I 
tossed  the  spear  back  to  his  hand. 

Now  this  was  mere  childishness,  and  I  knew  it, 
and  hoped,  with  shame  for  my  own  lack  of  sense, 
that  Pemaou  would  not  accept  my  covert  chal 
lenge,  and  that  the  matter  would  end  there. 
But  Pemaou  had  purposes  of  his  own.  He 


IN  THE  OTTAWA  CAMP  45 

looked  at  the  spear  for  a  moment,  then  sent  it 
spinning  toward  my  head.  "On  guard!"  he 
cried  in  my  own  tongue,  and  I  remembered  that 
he  had  spent  some  time  among  the  French  at 
Montreal. 

I  caught  the  spear,  and  cursed  myself  for  a 
fool.  The  Indians  again  gave  tongue  to  their 
approval,  and  gathered  in  a  ring,  leaving  the 
space  between  Pemaou  and  myself  clear.  All 
was  ready  for  the  game  to  proceed.  I  hesitated 
a  moment,  and  the  Ottawas  laughed,  while  Pem 
aou  looked  disdainful. 

All  animals  are  braggarts,  from  the  cock  in  the 
barnyard  to  the  moose  when  he  hears  his  rival, 
and  man  is  not  much  better.  I  pricked  the 
spear  point  against  my  hand,  and  looked  at  it 
critically. 

"It  is  as  dull  as  the  Huron's  wits,"  I  scoffed, 
"but  we  will  do  the  best  that  we  can  with  it;" 
and  stepping  back  several  feet  nearer  the  coun 
cil  fire,  I  put  the  weapon  into  play. 

I  have  been  in  weightier  occasions  than  the 
one  that  followed,  but  never  in  one  that  I  can 
remember  in  more  detail.  In  all  lives  there  are 
moments  that  memory  paints  in  bright,  crude 
colors,  like  pictures  in  a  child's  book,  and  so 
this  scene  looks  to  me  now.  I  can  see  the  crowd 
ing  Ottawas,  their  bodies  painted  red  and  black, 
their  nose  pendants  —  a  pebble  hung  on  a  deer- 


46  MONTLIVET 

sinew  —  swinging  against  their  greasy  lips  as 
they  shouted  plaudits  or  derision.  But  best  I 
can  see  Pemaou,  dancing  between  me  and  the 
sun  like  some  grotesque  dream  fantasy.  He 
was  in  full  war  bravery,  his  body  painted  red, 
barred  with  white  stripes  to  imitate  the  lacing 
on  our  uniforms,  and  his  hair  feather-decked 
till  he  towered  in  height  like  a  fir  tree.  I  say 
that  he  was  grotesque,  but  at  the  time  I  did  not 
think  of  his  appearance;  I  thought  only  that 
here  was  a  man  who  was  my  mate  in  cunning, 
and  who  wished  me  ill. 

This  was  no  squaw's  game,  for  each  cast  was 
made  with  force  and  method.  We  both  threw 
warily,  and  the  spear  whistled  to  and  fro  as 
regularly  as  a  weaver's  shuttle.  I  backed  my 
way  toward  the  council  fire  until  I  could  hear 
Longuant  distinctly,  then  I  prayed  my  faculties 
to  serve  me  well,  and  stood  my  ground.  My 
mind  was  on  the  rack.  I  could  not,  for  the 
briefest  instant,  release  the  tension  of  my  thought 
as  to  the  game  before  me,  yet  I  missed  no  sound 
from  the  group  around  the  fire.  The  low,  red 
sun  dazzled  my  eyes,  and  I  waited,  with  each 
throw  from  the  Huron,  for  one  that  should  be 
aimed  with  deadlier  intent. 

For  I  realized  that  Pemaou  was  not  doing  his 
best,  and,  since  I  had  seen  hate  in  his  eyes,  this 
clemency  troubled  me.  I  wondered  if  he  were  a 


IN  THE  OTTAWA  CAMP  47 

decoy,  and  if  some  one  were  coming  upon  me 
from  the  rear,  and  I  stopped  and  stared  at  him 
with  defiance,  only  to  see  that  he  was  looking, 
not  at  me,  nor  at  the  attentive  audience  around 
us,  but  over  my  head  at  the  council  fire. 

Then,  indeed,  the  truth  clapped  me  in  the  face, 
and  I  could  have  laughed  aloud  to  think  what  a 
puppet  I  had  been,  just  when  I  was  comforting 
my  vanity  with  my  own  shrewdness.  Of  course, 
Pemaou  would  spare  me,  and  so  prolong  the 
game.  As  the  son  of  the  leader  of  the  Hurons, 
he  had  more  to  learn  from  Longuant's  speech 
than  I.  We  were  playing  with  the  same  cards, 
but  his  stakes  were  the  larger.  I  suddenly  real 
ized  that  I  was  enjoying  myself  more  than  in 
a  long  time. 

But  the  test  was  to  come.  When  Pemaou  had 
heard  all  he  wished,  he  would  aim  the  spear  at 
my  throat,  and  so,  though  I  threw  negligently,  I 
watched  like  a  starved  cat.  I  heard  the  council 
agree  upon  a  decisive  measure,  and  I  knew  that 
the  Huron's  moment  had  arrived.  He  seized  it. 
His  spear  whistled  at  me  like  a  bullet,  but  my 
muscles  were  braced  and  waiting.  I  caught  the 
weapon,  and  held  it,  though  the  wood  ate  into  my 
palms.  The  savages  told  the  Huron  in  a  deri 
sive  roar  that  the  Frenchman  was  the  better 
man. 

And  now  it  was  my  turn.     So  far  I  had  thrown 


48  MONTLIVET 

fair,  without  twist  or  trickery,  but  I  knew  one 
turn  of  the  wrist  that  could  do  cruel  work. 
Should  I  use  it?  Pemaou  had  tried  to  murder 
me.  I  looked  at  his  red-and-white  body,  and 
reptile  eyes,  and  hate  rushed  to  my  brain  like 
liquor.  I  took  the  spear  and  snapped  it. 

'Take  your  plaything!"  I  cried,  and  I  tossed 
the  fragments  in  his  face.  "Learn  to  use  it  if 
you  care  for  a  whole  skin,  for  I  promise  you  that 
we  shall  meet  again."  And  turning  my  back  on 
him,  I  strode  out  of  the  Ottawa  camp  the  richer 
by  some  information,  and  one  foe. 


CHAPTER    V 

A    DECISION 

I  FOUND  Cadillac  in  his  private  room  at  the 
fort,  and  said  to  myself  that  he  looked  like 
a  man  stripped  for  running.  Not  that  his  ap 
parel  had  altered  since  I  had  met  him  swag 
gering  upon  the  beach  the  day  before,  but  his 
bearing  had  changed.  He  had  dropped  su 
perfluities,  and  was  hardened  and  sinewed  for 
action. 

I  expected  him  to  rate  me  for  my  tardiness  in 
reporting  my  interview  with  the  Englishman, 
but,  instead,  he  greeted  me  with  so  much  eagerness 
that  I  saw  that  some  of  my  news  must  have  run 
before. 

"What  do  you  know?"  I  cried. 

He  looked  at  the  crowd  swarming  outside  the 
window.  'That  we  are  in  a  hornets'  nest,"  he 
said,  with  a  wry  smile.  "But  never  mind  that 
now.  We  must  talk  rapidly.  I  have  been  wait 
ing  for  you.  I  could  not  act  till  I  learned  what 
you  had  done." 

I  bowed  my  regrets.  "I  was  delayed.  I  saw 
the  Englishman,  and" 

He  cut  me  short.     "  Never  mind  the  English- 


50  MONTLIVET 

man,"  he  cried,  with  a  wave  of  his  impatient 
hand.  "  Tell  me  of  the  Ottawa  camp.  You  have 
been  there  an  hour.  I  hear  that  you  danced 
where  they  danced,  and  shared  dog-meat  and 
jest  alike.  In  faith,  Montlivet,  I  have  a  good 
will  to  keep  you  here  in  irons  if  I  can  do  it  in  no 
gentler  way.  But  what  did  Longuant  say  at  the 
council  fire?" 

I  made  sure  that  we  were  alone,  and  dropped 
into  a  chair.  My  muscles  were  complaining,  yet 
I  knew  that  I  had  but  begun  my  day's  work. 
"It  was  a  long  council,"  I  said,  "and  all  the  old 
men  were  there.  Longuant  was  leader,  but  he 
was  but  one  of  many.  The  Ottawas  are  much 
stirred." 

"About  the  prisoner?" 

I  shook  my  head.  "  The  prisoner  is  the 
excuse,  —  the  touchstone.  The  real  matter  goes 
deep.  You  have  not  blinded  these  people. 
They  know  that  England  and  France  are  at 
war,  but  they  know,  too,  that  peace  may  be 
declared  any  day.  They  know  that  the  Baron 
has  made  an  underground  treaty  with  the  Eng 
lish  and  the  Iroquois,  and  they  realize  that  the 
Iroquois  may  attack  this  place  at  any  time  with 
half  the  band  of  Hurons  at  their  back.  They 
have  no  illusions  as  to  what  such  an  attack 
would  mean.  They  know  that  the  French  would 
make  terms  and  be  spared,  but  that  the  Ottawas 


A  DECISION  51 

and  the  loyal  Hurons  would  be  butchered.  They 
are  far-sighted." 

Cadillac  nodded  heavily.  "  So  they  think  that 
we  would  desert  them,  and  hand  them  over  to 
the  Iroquois?  We  must  reassure  them." 

I  rapped  on  the  table.  "We  did  desert  them 
once,"  I  reminded  him.  :'They  know  how  we 
abandoned  the  refugee  Hurons  at  Quebec,  and 
they  hold  our  word  lightly.  It  shames  us  to 
say  this,  but  we  must  see  matters  as  they  are. 
No,  the  Ottawas  do  not  trust  us,  but  they  trust 
the  English  less.  It  is  a  choice  of  evils.  But 
they  are  shrewd  enough  to  see  that  their  greatest 
peril  lies  in  a  truce  between  ourselves  and  the 
English.  Then  they  would  indeed  be  between 
two  stools.  Now,  they  see  that  there  are  two 
paths  open." 

Cadillac  was  breathing  heavily.  'You 

mean  "  —  he  asked. 

I  spoke  slowly.  "I  mean,"  I  said,  "that 
they  must  either  go  over  to  the  English  them 
selves,  or  succeed  in  embroiling  us  with  the 
English." 

"And  they  chose?" 

"They  did  not  choose.  They  temporized. 
They  see  the  advantages  of  a  union  with  the 
English.  A  better  beaver  market,  and  plenty 
of  brandy.  It  goes  hard  with  them  that  we  are 
frugal  with  our  muskets,  while  the  English  keep 


52  MONTLIVET 

the  Iroquois  well  armed.  Longuant  says,  and 
justly,  that  it  is  difficult  to  kill  men  with  clubs. 
On  the  other  hand  they  like  us,  and  find  the  Eng 
lish  abhorrent.  So  they  have  virtually  agreed  to 
leave  the  casting  vote  with  you.  They  will  come 
after  sundown  and  demand  that  the  prisoner  be 
given  them  for  torture.  If  you  agree,  they  will 
feel  that  you  have  declared  your  position  against 
the  English;  if  you  refuse"  I  broke  off,  and 
leaned  back  in  the  chair.  I  had  not  realized,  till 
my  own  voice  stated  it,  how  black  a  case  we  had 
in  hand. 

We  sat  in  silence  for  a  time.  Cadillac  scowled 
and  beat  his  palm  upon  his  knee  as  a  flail  beats 
grain,  and  I  knew  he  needed  no  words  of  mine. 
I  thought  that  he  was  going  over  his  defenses  in 
his  mind,  and  I  began  to  calculate  how  many 
rounds  of  shot  I  had  in  my  canoes,  and  to  hope 
that  my  men  would  not  prove  cravens.  I  knew, 
without  argument  with  myself,  that  the  beaver 
lands  did  not  need  me  half  as  much  as  I  was 
needed  here. 

At  length  Cadillac  looked  up.  "  Do  you  think 
the  prisoner  is  a  spy?"  he  asked. 

I  had  dreaded  this  question.  "I  am  afraid 
so,  but  judge  of  him  yourself.  He  speaks 
French." 

Cadillac  half  rose.  "  He  speaks  French  ?  Yet 
he  is  an  Englishman  ?" 


A  DECISION  53 

I  nodded.     "  Undoubtedly  an  Englishman." 

"And  you  made  nothing  of  him?" 

I  could  only  shake  my  head.  "Nothing. 
He  tells  the  story  that  I  should  tell  if  I  were 
lying,  —  yet  he  may  be  telling  the  truth.  He 
is  a  bundle  of  inconsistencies  ;  that  may  be  na 
ture  or  art.  He  may  be  a  hot-headed  youth,  who 
knows  nothing  beyond  his  own  bitterness  over 
his  capture,  or  he  may  be  a  clever  actor.  I  do 
not  know. " 

Cadillac  gave  a  long  breath  that  was  near  a 
sigh.  "  Poor  soul ! "  he  said  unexpectedly.  "  Well, 
spy  or  otherwise,  it  matters  little  for  the  few 
hours  remaining." 

I  caught  his  arm  across  the  table.  "  Cadillac ! " 
I  cried,  with  an  oath.  'You  would  not  do 
that!" 

He  shook  off  my  hand,  and  looked  at  me  with 
more  regret  than  anger.  "I  am  the  rat  in  the 
trap,"  he  said  simply.  "What  did  you  expect 
me  to  do  ?" 

I  rose.  "Do  you  mean,"  I  cried,  my  voice 
rasping,  "that  you  will  not  attempt  a  defense? 
that  you  will  hand  a  man,  a  white  man,  over  to 
those  fiends  of  hell  ?  Good  God,  man,  you  are 
worse  than  the  Iroquois!" 

He  came  over,  and  seized  my  arm.  "  I  could 
run  you  through  for  that  speech,"  he  said,  his 
teeth  grating.  "Are  you  a  child,  that  you  can- 


54  MONTLIVET 

not  look  beyond  the  moment?  Suppose  I  defy 
the  Ottawas.  Then  I  must  call  on  the  Baron  to 
help  me,  since  it  was  his  men  who  brought  the 
prisoner  to  camp.  Why,  man,  are  you  crazed  ? 
Look  at  the  situation.  Kondiaronk,  the  Huron, 
will  reason  as  the  Ottawas  have  done,  and  throw 
his  forces  on  their  side.  I  should  be  left  with 
only  the  Baron  to  back  me,  —  the  Baron,  who 
has  been  whetting  his  knife  for  my  throat  for 
the  last  year.  Why,  this  is  what  he  wants;  this 
is  why  he  brought  the  prisoner  here !  Would  you 
have  me  walk  into  his  trap  ?  Would  you  have 
me  sacrifice  my  men,  this  garrison,  why,  this 
country  even,  to  save  the  life  of  one  puny  Eng 
lishman,  who  is  probably  himself  a  spy?"  He 
stopped  a  moment.  "Why,  man,  you  sicken 
me!"  he  cried,  and  he  slashed  at  me  with  his 
sword  as  if  I  were  a  reptile. 

I  took  my  own  sword,  and  laid  it  on  the  table. 
"I  am  a  fool,"  I  said,  not  for  the  first  time  that 
day.  "  But  how  will  Frontenac  look  at  your  hand 
ing  a  white  man  over  to  torture?" 

Cadillac  put  up  his  sword.  "My  orders  are 
plain,"  he  said,  tapping  a  sheaf  of  papers  on  his 
desk.  'They  came  in  the  last  packet.  I  am  to 
treat  all  prisoners  in  the  Indian  manner.  As  you 
say,  the  Indians  have  come  to  think  us  chicken- 
hearted.  We  must  give  them  more  than  words  if 
we  are  to  hold  them  as  allies." 


A    DECISION  55 

I  seized  sword  and  hat.  'You  are  a  good 
servant,"  I  said.  "I  wish  you  joy  of  your  obedi 
ence,"  and  I  plunged  toward  the  door. 

But  an  orderly  stopped  me  on  the  threshold. 
"Is  Monsieur  de  la  Mothe-Cadillac  within?"  he 
asked.  'The  Baron  desires  an  audience  with 
him." 

Cadillac  pushed  up  behind  me.  "I  am  here," 
he  called  to  the  orderly.  'Tell  the  Baron  that 
I  will  see  him  when  the  sun  touches  the  water- 
line."  Then  he  pulled  me  back  into  the  room. 
"How  much  do  you  think  the  Baron  knows?" 
he  demanded. 

I  felt  shame  for  my  forgetfulness.  "  Pemaou 
was  in  the  Ottawa  camp,"  I  said,  and  I  told  him 
what  had  happened. 

Cadillac's  face  hardened.  "Then  they  have 
sent  to  demand  the  prisoner,"  he  pondered  mood 
ily.  "I  had  hoped  for  a  few  hours'  respite. 
There  might  have  been  some  way  for  the  prisoner 
to  escape." 

I  had  been  walking  the  floor,  grinding  my 
mailed  heels  into  the  pine  wood.  "Escape!" 
I  cried  at  him.  "Escape!  To  starve  or  be 
eaten  by  wolves!  The  torture  of  the  Ottawas 
were  kinder.  Now  it  is  your  turn  to  play 
the  child.  Escape  ?  Yes,  but  not  alone.  Go, 
go,  monsieur!  Go  and  meet  the  Baron.  Go 
before  I  change  my  mind.  Tell  the  Baron  he 


56  MONTLIVET 

can  have  the  prisoner.  Then  go  to  Longuant, 
and  make  what  terms  you  will  with  him.  Make 
any  concessions.  Feather  your  nest  while  you 
can.  I  want  some  one  to  win  at  this,  since  I 
must  lose.  I  will  take  the  prisoner  west  with 
me." 

Cadillac  seized  me.  "Montlivet,  you  mean 
this  ?  "  he  demanded.  His  grip  ate  into  my 
arm. 

I  reached  up,  and  unclasped  his  fingers. 
"  Unhand  me!"  I  grumbled.  "I  must  be  on  my 
way." 

But  he  paid  no  heed.  'You  mean  this?" 
he  reiterated,  taking  a  fresh  grip.  "The  pris 
oner  will  hamper  you." 

I  tore  my  arm  away.  "Hamper  me!"  I 
jerked  out.  "He  will  clog  me,  manacle  me! 
But  it  is  the  only  thing  to  do.  Now  go,  while 
this  mood  holds  with  me.  Five  minutes  hence 
I  may  not  see  things  in  this  way.  Go!  I  will 
arrange  the  escape.  You,  as  commandant,  must 
not  connive  with  me  at  that.  Go  to  the  Indians, 
and  make  your  terms.  If  you  can  hold  them  off 
till  moonrise,  I  promise  you  the  prisoner  shall 
be  gone." 

But  Cadillac  would  not  hasten.  He  gave  me 
the  long  estimating  glance  that  I  had  seen  him 
use  once  before.  "Montlivet,"  he  said,  with 
his  arm  across  my  shoulder,  "you  are  doing  a 


A  DECISION  57 

great  thing;  a  great  thing  for  France.  No  man 
could  serve  his  country  more  fully  than  you  are 
doing  at  this  moment.  It  is  an  obscure  deed, 
but  a  momentous  one.  No  one  can  tell  what 
you  may  be  doing  for  the  empire  by  helping  us 
through  this  crisis." 

But  I  was  in  no  mood  for  heroics.  "  I  am  not 
doing  this  for  France,"  I  cried  irritably.  "I  live 
to  serve  France,  yes;  but  I  want  to  serve  her  in 
my  own  way.  Not  to  have  this  millstone  tied 
around  my  neck,  whether  I  will  or  no.  Don't 
think  for  a  moment  that  I  do  this  because  I  wish." 

Cadillac  removed  his  arm  and  looked  at  me. 
:'Then  you  do  it  from  liking  for  the  English 
man  ? " 

I  should  have  had  the  grace  to  laugh  at  this, 
but  now  it  was  the  torch  to  the  magazine. 
"Like  him!  No!"  I  shouted,  with  an  oath. 
"He  is  bitter  of  tongue,  and,  I  think,  a  spy. 
He  is  obnoxious  to  me.  No,  I  am  doing  this 
because  I  am,  what  the  Ottawas  call  us  all,  — 
chicken-hearted!"  and  sick  with  myself  and  what 
I  had  undertaken,  I  flung  out  of  the  door. 


CHAPTER   VI 

DAME    OPPORTUNITY 

THE  first  thing  to  do  was  to  see  the  Englishman. 
For  the  third  time  in  twenty-four  hours  I  went 
to  the  commandant's  quarters. 

The  prisoner  was  at  the  window  when  I  en 
tered,  and  again  I  caught  his  look  of  keen  intel 
ligence  ;  a  look  which  he  apparently  tried  to  veil 
as  his  eyes  met  mine.  That  bred  suspicion  in  me. 
Yet  I  could  not  mistake  the  welcome  with  which 
he  greeted  me. 

"I  am  gratified  to  see  you  again,  monsieur." 
Now  it  was  a  civil  phrase,  and  well  spoken,  but  it 
annoyed  me.  I  could  not  understand  his  change 
of  look,  and  I  dislike  complexities.  What  was 
the  man  concealing  that  he  should  drop  his  eyes 
before  me.  In  spite  of  the  seriousness  of  our 
joint  state,  I  felt  much  inclination  to  take  time, 
then  and  there,  to  box  his  ears,  and  tell  him 
to  be  more  forthright.  My  annoyance  made  it 
easier  for  me  to  come  without  phrases  to  the 
meat  of  the  matter.  I  pressed  him  to  a  chair, 
and  stood  over  him. 

'You  looked  out  of  the  window,  Monsieur 
Starling.  What  did  you  learn  ?" 


DAME   OPPORTUNITY  59 

He  glanced  upward.  "  The  Indians  are  ex 
cited.  Am  I  the  cause?" 

'Yes,  monsieur." 

His  glance  fell.  'They  want  me  —  for  tor 
ture,"  he  said,  with  steadiness  I  could  not  but 
commend.  Then  he  turned  suddenly.  "Can 
your  commandant  protect  me?" 

Now  this  was  unexpected.  I  had  intended  to 
lead  up  to  this  situation  gradually,  and  the  ques 
tion  caught  me  unguarded.  The  prisoner  was 
looking  me  full  in  the  face,  and  he  read  there 
what  I  had  hoped  to  hide. 

"I  understand,"  he  said. 

I  have  been  with  many  men  when  they 
heard  their  death  sentence,  and  those  who  take 
it  as  this  man  did,  with  spirit  and  knowledge, 
rob  me  of  my  hold  on  myself,  so  that  I  show 
emotion  of  which  I  am  ashamed.  I  turned 
away.  "Wait,  wait,  monsieur,  I  have  not  said 
all!"  I  cried.  "There  is  still  one  chance  for 
you." 

He  shook  his  head.  "Small  chance  for  me 
with  that  swarm  outside.  Well,  what  must 
come,  will  come."  He  was  white,  and  his  eyes 
grew  even  more  sombre;  but,  though  his  blood 
might  play  him  traitor,  his  will  was  unshaken. 
I  saw  that.  I  saw,  too,  that  his  manner  had 
lost  all  bravado.  He  suddenly  came  to  me, 
and  laid  his  hand  on  my  arm.  "I  am  glad, 


60  MONTLIVET 

monsieur,  that  it  was  you  who  came  to  tell  me. 
It  is  much  easier  to  hear  it  from  you.  All  day 
you  have  been  thoughtful  for  me;  for  me,  a 
stranger  and  an  enemy.  I  wish  that  my  bless 
ing  might  bring  you  happiness,  monsieur."  And 
before  I  could  check  him,  he  raised  my  hand 
to  his  lips. 

I  was  greatly  disturbed.  "  Stop !  Stop !  Stop ! " 
I  expostulated,  too  much  stirred  to  think  what 
I  was  saying.  "This  is  not  the  end.  You  are 
to  go  west  with  me." 

He  drew  away.  "With  you  ?  Who  are  you  ? 
What  is  the  west  ?  You  said  —  you  said  that 
I  had  to  die." 

I  felt  unsteady,  and  ill  at  ease.  "Let  us  dis 
cuss  this  like  sane  men!"  I  exclaimed,  angry 
at  myself.  'You  jump  at  conclusions.  That 
is  a  woman's  foible.  Who  am  I  ?  A  trader, 
Armand  de  Montlivet,  from  Montreal.  I  am 
going  west  for  peltries.  It  will  be  a  hard  trip, 
and  you  will  suffer;  but  it  is  your  only  chance. 
I  will  get  you  to  the  canoe  in  some  fashion  soon 
after  dusk.  I  have  not  made  my  plans.  I  must 
reconnoitre.  Hold  yourself  ready  to  do  what  I 
ask." 

Still  he  drew  away.  "I  shall  be  a  burden. 
Tell  me  the  truth,  shall  I  be  a  burden  ?" 

"Yes." 

He  did  not  look  angered.     Indeed,  his  eyes 


DAME    OPPORTUNITY  61 

softened  till  I  thought  him  near  tears.  "And 
you  will  do  this  for  me!  Run  all  this  risk! 
And  yet  you  never  saw  me  before  to-day!"  He 
touched  his  hand  to  mine. 

Somehow  this  again  annoyed  me.  The  man 
was  concealing  something  from  me,  yet  affected 
to  be  moved  to  open  emotion  by  his  gratitude. 
I  was  not  at  the  bottom  of  him  yet.  I  removed 
his  hand. 

"Monsieur,  you  forget,"  I  corrected.  "You 
said  we  were  foes,  and  we  are.  I  never  embraced 
an  Englishman,  and  I  shall  not  begin  now  — 
now  that  our  nations  are  at  war.  You  may  be 
a  spy." 

'You  think  me  a  spy!" 

I  sighed  from  exasperation,  and  pointed  to  the 
window.  "Monsieur  Starling,  wake  up  to  this 
situation.  What  does  it  matter  what  you  are, 
or  what  I  think?  We  waste  time.  Say  that 
you  will  follow  me,  and  I  shall  go  and  make  my 
plans." 

But  still  he  looked  at  me.  "Then  you  en 
cumber  yourself  with  me  from  abstract  duty. 
Personally  you  distrust  me." 

The  truth  seemed  best.     I  bowed. 

He  thought  this  over.  'Then  I  refuse  to  go," 
he  decided  quietly.  "  I  refuse."  And  he  bowed 
toward  the  door  to  put  a  period  to  our  interview. 

But   here   my   patience  broke.     I   took   him 


62  MONTLIVET 

by  the  arm,  and  held  him  ungently.  "Words! 
Words!  Words!"  I  mocked  at  him.  "What 
would  you  have  me  say  ?  That  I  love  you  ?  In 
faith,  I  don't.  You  irritate  me;  annoy  me.  But 
save  you  I  will,  if  only  for  my  peace  of  mind. 
Look  at  me.  Look  at  me,  I  say." 

He  obeyed.  All  his  hard  nonchalance  had  re 
turned. 

"Do  you  trust  me?"  I  demanded. 
'Yes,  monsieur." 

"Then  you  will  come  with  me?" 

"No,  monsieur." 

This  was  madness  —  and  it  took  time.  "In 
deed  you  will  come,"  I  said  between  my  teeth. 
"And  that  without  more  words.  Good-by." 

But  he  caught  my  sleeve.  "Then  you  take 
me  against  my  will." 

I  brushed  him  away.  "And  against  mine, 
too,  if  you  balk  my  wishes  at  every  turn.  But  I 
will  take  you.  It  is  the  only  chance  you  have, 
and  if  you  are  mad  enough  to  refuse  it,  I  must 
force  it  on  you.  Remember,  I  shall  use  force. 
Now  stay  by  the  window,  and  await  my  signal. 
I  shall  come  when  I  can." 

He  followed  to  the  door.  'You  will  not  need 
to  use  force  with  me,  monsieur,"  he  said  soberly. 
"If  you  insist  on  taking  me,  I  shall  follow  your 
directions,  and  use  what  wit  I  can.  But  I  can 
not  thank  you,  for  I  cannot  feel  grateful.  You 


DAME    OPPORTUNITY  63 

give  under  protest,  and  I  accept  in  the  same  way. 
It  is  a  forced  companionship.  I  do  not  wish  to 
die ;  but,  after  all,  it  will  soon  be  over,  and  life  has 
not  been  sweet.  I  would  rather  risk  what  meets 
me  here  than  take  help  from  you,  now  that  I  see 
you  give  it  grudgingly." 

This  chilled  me,  and  excuses  pressed  hot  on 
my  tongue.  Yet  it  was  unwise  to  protest.  Why 
should  I  wish  his  gratitude?  It  would  hamper 
us  both.  I  had  no  desire  to  bind  him  to  me 
with  obligations.  I  felt  shame  for  my  coldness; 
but,  for  once,  my  head  ruled,  and  I  let  the  situa 
tion  stand. 

'You  are  a  brave  man,  monsieur,"  I  said  in- 
consequently.  "I  know  that  you  will  bear  your 
share  to-night." 

He  laid  his  hand  on  the  door,  and  searched 
me  with  his  sad  eyes.  "  One  last  word,"  he  said, 
"and  then  I  shall  bury  this  for  aye.  Monsieur, 
if  I  bring  you  misfortune,  I  ask  you  to  remem 
ber  —  to  remember  from  now  on  —  that  you 
took  me  against  my  will." 

For  all  my  impatience,  I  had  some  effort  not 
to  smile.  He  would  be  a  burden,  he  might  be  a 
nuisance,  but  he  could  hardly  be  a  misfortune. 
He  had  a  weighty  sense  of  his  importance,  to  use 
so  large  a  term.  But  I  would  not  ridicule  him. 
"I  promise,"  I  said. 

He  held  out  his  hand.     "Say  that  again  with 


64  MONTLIVET 

your  hand  in  mine.  Promise  me  that,  whatever 
disaster  I  bring  you,  you  will  remember  that  I 
came  against  my  will." 

Somehow  that  sobered  me.  "I  promise,"  I 
repeated,  and  touching  his  hand,  and  again  bid 
ding  him  be  on  the  watch,  I  went  away. 

I  had  no  plans.  My  mind  was  cloudy  as 
muddy  water,  and  I  sauntered  around  the  camp 
looking  important  and  weighty  with  calculation, 
but  feeling  resourceless  and  slow.  Then  I  be 
thought  me  of  Singing  Arrow. 

I  shouldered  my  way  to  her  lodge  with  speed 
that  made  me  a  target  for  scantily  hidden 
laughter.  But  I  could  not  find  her.  Lodge  and 
fire  were  alike  deserted.  I  asked  questions,  but 
was  met  by  shrugs.  My  eagerness  had  been  un 
wise.  I  had  sought  too  openly  and  brusquely, 
and  the  Ottawas  suspected  my  zeal  of  being 
official  rather  than  personal.  I  saw  myself  in 
their  eyes  as  an  officer  of  the  law,  and  knew  that 
I  had  closed  one  door  in  my  own  face.  I  told 
myself  contemptuously  that  I  had  made  so  many 
blunders  in  that  one  day  that  I  must,  by  this  time, 
have  exhausted  the  list,  and  that  I  would  soon 
stumble  on  the  right  road  as  the  only  one  left. 

And  so  it  proved.  For  I  went  to  my  canoes, 
and  there,  perched  bird-wise  on  my  cargo,  and 
flinging  jests  and  laughter  at  Pierre  and  the  men, 
sat  Singing  Arrow. 


DAME    OPPORTUNITY  65 

It  was  what  I  most  wanted,  and  so  relieved 
was  I  at  finding  it,  that  I  could  not  forbear  a 
word  of  reproof. 

"  I  told  you  to  keep  away  from  Singing  Ar 
row!"  I  stormed  at  Pierre,  like  the  mother  who 
stops  to  shake  her  recovered  child  before  she 
cries  over  it. 

Pierre  grinned  shamefacedly,  but  Singing  Ar 
row  smiled  like  May  sunlight. 

"lias  monsieur  been  looking  for  me?"  she 
asked.  "  He  carries  the  wet  red  clay  that  lies  in 
front  of  my  wigwam,"  and  she  pointed  a  curving 
finger  at  my  boots. 

I  could  have  embraced  her.  If  I  had  no  wit, 
she  had  it  and  to  spare.  I  made  up  my  mind, 
then  and  there,  to  trust  her.  It  was  a  mad 
chance,  but  a  good  gamester  likes  a  dangerous 
throw. 

"Come  here,  Singing  Arrow,"  I  commanded, 
and  I  would  have  led  her  down  the  beach  out  of 
earshot. 

She  followed  but  a  step  or  two,  then  halted, 
balancing  herself  on  one  foot  like  a  meditative 
crane.  "  I  want  sunset-head  to  go  too,"  she  in 
sisted,  darting  her  covert  bird-glance  at  Pierre, 
and  when  I  would  have  objected,  I  saw  her 
mouth  pinch  together,  and  I  remembered  that 
no  Indian  will  submit  to  force.  So  I  let  her 
have  her  will. 


66  MONTLIVET 

We  held  short  council:  Pierre  the  peasant, 
Singing  Arrow  the  squaw,  and  I,  the  Seignior  de 
Montlivet.  We  mingled  suggestions  and  advice, 
and  struck  a  balance.  The  sunset  flamed  in  the 
woods  behind  us,  and  I  knew  that  the  moon  rose 
early.  I  could  have  used  a  knife  upon  Pierre 
for  the  time  it  took  me  to  convince  him  that  our 
canoes  could  carry  one  man  more.  Heretofore 
my  nod  had  been  enough  to  bring  him  to  my 
heels,  but  now  he  thought  his  head  in  danger,  so 
he  fought  with  me  like  an  animal  or  an  equal. 
The  equal  I  would  not  tolerate,  and  the  animal 
I  cowed  in  brute  fashion.  Then  I  sent  Singing 
Arrow  to  do  her  work,  and  I  went  to  the  English 
man. 

The  Englishman  saw  me  from  the  window, 
and  was  at  the  door  before  I  could  lift  the  latch. 
Yet  his  eagerness  did  not  trip  him  into  careless 
ness,  and  so  long  as  the  guards  could  see,  he 
greeted  me  with  a  hostile  stare. 

I  pushed  him  within,  and  closed  the  door. 
"Have  you  seen  any  one?"  I  asked. 

"Only  the  guard  with  my  supper." 

I  drew  a  freer  breath.  "  Good  tidings.  Then 
Cadillac  has  succeeded  in  holding  off  the  Indians 
until  moonrise." 

He  glanced  out  at  the  dusk.  'That  is  not 
long,"  he  said  dispassionately. 

I   put   out   my   hand.     Somehow   this   youth 


DAME    OPPORTUNITY  67 

could  move  me  curiously  by  his   calmness,  al 
though  I  was  no  stranger  to  brave  men. 

"The  time  is  terribly  short,"  I  agreed,  "but 
we  will  make  it  suffice.  And  we  need  not  haste. 
We  can  do  nothing  till  it  is  a  little  darker,  then 
we  shall  move  swiftly.  A  young  squaw,  Singing 
Arrow,  will  be  here  in  a  few  minutes.  You  are 
to  escape  in  her  dress." 

He  wasted  no  time  in  comment.  "Am  I  dark 
enough?"  he  demurred.  "My  neck,  where  I 
am  not  sunburned,  is  very  white." 

I  had  thought  of  this,  and  had  warned  Sing 
ing  Arrow.  'There  is  no  opportunity  to  stain 
your  skin,"  I  said,  "so  we  must  trust  to  the  dark, 
and  a  blanket  wrapping.  The  Indian  will  wear 
leggings,  skirt  and  blouse  of  skin,  so  you  will 
be  fairly  covered.  The  hands  and  hair  are  the 
weak  points.  You  will  have  to  keep  them  in  the 
blanket." 

He  hesitated.  'You  can  trust  this  girl?"  he 
asked  slowly. 

Now  why  should  he  ask  what  he  knew  I  could 
not  answer  ?  "  Can  you  trust  me  —  or  I  you, 
for  the  matter  of  that?"  I  jerked  out  with  a 
frown.  ''This  is  an  outlaw's  land,  and  the  wise 
man  trusts  no  one  except  under  compulsion.  I 
would  not  trust  Singing  Arrow  for  a  moment  if 
I  could  help  myself,  but  she  is  our  only  hope,  so 
I  trust  her  implicitly.  I  advise  you  to  do  the 


68  MONTLIVET 

same.  Half  measures  are  folly.  If  you  try  to 
be  cautious  in  your  dealings  with  her,  you  will 
tie  her  hands  so  that  the  whole  thing  will  fall 
through.  If  she  betrays  us  —  well,  you  are  in 
no  worse  estate  than  now,  and  we  will  still  have 
my  sword  and  my  men  to  depend  on.  But  that 
is  a  slender  hope,  and  we  will  save  it  for  a  last 
resort.  Now  we  will  hazard  evervthing  on  this 
plan." 

I  had  made  my  long  speech  nervously,  know 
ing,  in  my  heart,  that  what  I  asked  the  man  to 
do  would  take  more  courage  of  soul  than  one 
would  expect  to  find  in  his  slender  frame.  For 
I  might  be  throwing  him  over  to  fiendish  torment. 
The  Indian  women  were  cruel  as  weasels,  and 
more  ingenious  in  their  trap-setting  than  the  men. 
It  cooled  my  blood  to  think  what  Singing  Arrow's 
friendliness  might  really  mean. 

The  prisoner  heard  me  without  flinching. 
"But  what  is  Singing  Arrow's  motive?"  he 
asked,  with  his  mournful  eyes  full  on  my  own. 
:'We  cannot  read  men's  hearts,  but,  after  all, 
there  are  but  few  springs  that  rule  their  action. 
You  know  that  I  will  be  loyal  to  you  to  save  my 
head,  to  which,  though  it  has  served  me  badly, 
I  yet  cling.  I  know  that  you  will  be  loyal  to  me 
because  I  see  that  God  gave  you  a  softness  of 
heart  which  your  brain  tells  you  is  unwise.  But 
what  string  pulls  this  Indian  that  she  should  be 


DAME    OPPORTUNITY  69 

a  traitor  to  her  people  ?  If  you  will  give  me  a 
hint,  I  will  play  upon  it  as  best  I  can." 

I  could  only  shrug.  "It  may  be  my  man, 
Pierre,"  I  hazarded.  "He  is  red  as  a  flamingo, 
and  a  fool  into  the  bargain;  but  he  has  shoulders 
like  an  ox,  so  the  women  want  him.  I  can  see 
no  other  motive.  Will  you  trust  to  that,  mon 
sieur  ?  " 

He  looked  back  at  me  with  the  flicker  of  a 
smile.  "It  is  sufficient." 

I  do  not  like  smiles  that  I  cannot  understand, 
so  I  changed  the  subject.  'The  plan  is  sim 
ple,  monsieur,"  I  said  briskly.  "Singing  Arrow 
will  come  to  the  window,  and  you  are  to  make 
love  to  her.  After  a  time  —  not  too  long  —  you 
are  to  beguile  her  inside.  I  think  the  guards 
will  be  complaisant,  if  you  play  your  part  well. 
Be  as  debonair  as  possible.  A  soldier  is  always 
tempted  to  be  lenient  to  a  jaunty  foe." 

The  prisoner  nodded.  "And  you  will  meet 
me?" 

"Outside  in  the  camp.  I  shall  stand  near  a 
fire,  so  that  you  can  find  me  at  once.  Remember, 
monsieur,  that  you  are  Singing  Arrow,  and  that 
it  will  be  your  cue  to  follow  me,  and  mine  to 
shrug  you  away." 

The  Englishman  drew  a  long  breath.  "  I  am 
ready,  monsieur,"  he  said,  with  a  little  squaring 
of  the  shoulders,  and  I  saw  that,  mortal  danger 


70  MONTLIVET 

that  he  was  in,  his  spirit  yet  responded  to  the 
touch  of  comedy  in  the  game. 

I  saluted  him  with  a  laugh  of  my  own.  '  Then 
I  will  go,  monsieur.  Go  into  the  next  room  to 
change  your  clothing,  or  the  guard  may  come 
in  and  find  you.  One  thing  more.  Remember 
you  have  overpowered  Singing  Arrow,  and  taken 
your  disguise  by  force.  It  may  be  well  to  lock 
her  in  that  inside  room  before  you  leave;  but  do 
as  you  like.  I  leave  details  to  you." 

He  made  acknowledgment  with  a  sweeping 
bow.  "I  will  be  a  monster  of  cruelty,"  he  pro 
mised,  and  he  pulled  at  imaginary  mustachios 
like  a  child  at  play. 

Now  it  may  be  well  to  commend  nonchalance, 
but  there  are  bounds  that  should  not  be  passed. 
Had  this  man  no  reverence  toward  the  mystery 
of  his  own  life  that  he  jested  on  the  edge  of  it? 
I  had  rather  have  seen  him  with  a  rosary  in 
his  hand  than  with  defiance  on  his  lips. 

"  Is  life  all  bitterness  and  sharp-edged  laughter 
with  you,  monsieur?"  I  asked  bluntly.  "This 
may  be  our  last  talk.  It  is  hardly  a  seemly  one. 
If  you  have  messages  to  send  that  will  not  com 
promise  you,  I  will  try  and  get  them  through  — 
in  case  our  plans  fail." 

The  prisoner  eyed  me  oddly.  "And  in  case 
you  still  live,  monsieur,"  he  corrected.  'You 
show  much  solicitude  that  I  meet  my  end  deco- 


DAME    OPPORTUNITY  71 

rously,  yet  I  cannot  see  that  you  display  any 
dolor  over  your  own  condition.  Why  should  I 
have  less  fortitude  ?  You  are  like  a  man  who 
cares  not  for  religion  for  himself,  yet  insists  upon 
it  for  children  and  for  his  womenkind,  —  for  his 
inferiors  in  general.  Why  should  you  feel  that  I 
need  so  much  prompting?"  His  voice  suddenly 
hardened.  "Tell  me.  Is  it  my  youth  that  makes 
you  feel  yourself  my  mentor,  or  have  I  failed 
you  in  any  way  ?  Answer."  And  he  gave  the 
stamp  of  the  foot  that  I  had  heard  once  before. 

How  could  I  answer  but  with  laughter? 
'You  are  a  leopard,  and  a  lamb,  and  a  bantam 
cock  all  in  one,"  I  jeered  at  him.  "No  wonder 
that  I  feel  you  need  a  priest  to  shrive  you;  "  and 
I  laughed  again,  and  would  not  notice  the  hurt 
shining  of  his  eyes  as  I  went  away. 


CHAPTER    VII 

THE    BEGINNING 

I  HAD  not  vaunted  idly  when  I  told  the  prisoner 
that  our  plans  were  ready.  I  had  scarcely 
dropped  the  latch  of  the  commandant's  door 
when  I  saw  Singing  Arrow  sauntering  near. 

She  was  graceful  in  her  finery.  Even  a  white 
man  might  commend.  Her  skin  garments 
looked  soft  and  clean,  and  draped  her  cunningly. 
In  the  dusk  and  the  firelight  with  the  bright 
blanket  falling  from  her  hair,  she  looked  so  win 
ning  that  I  thought  the  guards  could  find  excuse 
if  the  prisoner  loitered  at  the  window. 

And  loiter  he  did.  I  sauntered  and  watched 
while  the  prisoner  and  Singing  ArrowT  threw 
glances  that  proved  them  no  tyros  in  the  game 
of  love  and  life.  The  comedy  was  pleasing,  and 
I  did  not  wonder  that  the  guards  tilted  their 
heads  to  one  side,  and  looked  on  with  grins. 
Singing  Arrow  bridled,  and  drew  away  and  then 
drew  near.  All  was  going  as  we  planned,  till 
Pemaou  and  a  band  of  his  Hurons  came  around 
the  corner  of  the  house. 

I  had  done  Pemaou  the  justice  to  hate  him 
when  I  first  saw  him.  And  one  does  not  hate 


THE    BEGINNING  73 

an  inferior.  He  had  as  keen  a  mind  as  I  have 
ever  known,  and  he  was  not  hampered  by  any 
of  the  scruples  and  decencies  that  interfere  with 
a  white  man.  So  he  was  my  superior  in  re 
source.  I  knew,  as  I  saw  him  look  at  me  now, 
that  my  share  in  the  game  was  over.  He  had 
seen  me  listening  to  Longuant.  Where  had  my 
wits  been  lagging  that  I  had  not  foreseen  that 
he  would  have  spies  watching  me,  and  would 
trace  some  connection  between  the  prisoner  and 
myself?  Well,  there  was  nothing  left  me  but 
to  stroll  away.  I  did  not  dare  go  in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  canoes;  it  wrould  be  unwise  to  seek 
Cadillac;  so  I  turned  boldly  to  the  Ottawa  camp. 
Hardly  knowing  what  I  planned,  I  asked  for 
Longuant. 

Somewhat  to  my  surprise,  the  Ottawas  lis 
tened  with  respect.  I  had  apparently  won  some 
reputation  among  them,  and  without  demur  they 
took  me  to  the  chief. 

Longuant  was  squatting  before  his  lodge.  A 
piece  of  wood  was  laid  across  his  lap,  and  he 
was  chopping  rank  tobacco  with  a  scalping 
knife.  He  smelled  of  oil,  and  smoke,  and  half- 
cured  hides;  yet  he  met  me  as  a  ruler  meets 
an  ambassador.  As  I  stumbled  after  him  into 
his  dark  lodge,  I  saw  that  he  was  preparing  to 
greet  me  with  all  the  silence  and  circumlocution 
of  a  state  messenger.  I  had  no  time  for  that,  — 


74  MONTLIVET 

though  it  gratified  me.  I  tramped  my  way 
through  all  ceremony  and  plunged  at  my  point. 

"I  am  no  envoy,"  I  began,  shaking  my  head 
in  refusal  of  the  proffered  seat  upon  the  mat 
beside  him.  "I  am  only  a  voice.  A  bird  that 
calls  *  beware'  from  the  branches,  and  then  flits 
away.  Why  watch  the  old  wolf,  and  let  the  cub 
play  free?  Would  you  make  yourself  a  laugh 
ing  -  stock  among  your  people,  by  letting  the 
Englishman  escape  into  the  Baron's  hands  ? 
Pernaou,  son  of  the  Baron,  stands  with  his  fol 
lowers  outside  the  Englishman's  window.  What 
does  he  seek?  I  am  no  Ottawa.  I  am  a  free 
man,  bound  to  no  clan,  and  to  no  covenant, 
and  friend  to  the  Ottawas  and  Hurons  alike. 
But  I  do  not  like  to  see  a  wise  man  tricked  by 
a  boy.  I  have  spoken." 

Longuant  rose.  "My  brother's  voice  speaks 
the  truth,"  he  said,  gathering  his  robes  to  leave 
me.  "My  brother  sent  his  words,  even  as  he 
flung  his  spear  at  Pemaou,  straight  at  the  mark. 
Only  one  word  goes  astray.  My  brother  is  not 
the  free  man  he  vaunts  himself.  He  is  tied  by 
hate;  "  and  pushing  out  his  lip  till  his  huge  nose 
pendant  stood  at  a  right  angle,  he  went  on  his 
way  to  be  my  willing,  but  entirely  unhoodwinked 
agent. 

I  went  to  my  canoes,  stumbling  a  little,  for 
I  was  tired.  It  was  dark  now,  and  the  fires 


THE   BEGINNING  75 

glowed  brazenly,  so  that  the  Indians  showed 
like  dancing  silhouettes.  The  sky  was  cloud 
less,  and  to  the  east  lay  a  band  of  uncertain 
light  that  meant  the  rising  moon.  This  was 
the  time  that  I  had  planned  to  use  in  action,  and 
the  knowledge  that  I  was  powerless  to  accom 
plish  anything  myself  made  me  so  irritable  that 
I  could  not  bear  to  speak  even  to  Pierre  and  the 
men.  I  sent  them  to  a  distance,  and  sat  down 
on  the  sand  so  torn  and  frayed  by  anxiety  that 
I  was  like  a  sick  man. 

And  here,  after  long  minutes,  Singing  Arrow 
found  me.  She  came  running  down  the  beach, 
slipping  on  the  rolling  pebbles,  and  careless 
either  of  her  grace,  or  of  the  noise  she  made. 

"And  you  sit  here  doing  nothing!"  she  cried, 
quite  as  a  white  girl  might  have  done. 

I  pushed  her  down  on  the  sand.  "Stop!" 
I  said.  "  I  knew  you  would  seek  me  here.  Now 
answer  briefly.  Pemaou  and  his  men  would  not 
let  you  get  near  the  window?" 

"No." 

"They  had  seen  you  with  me,"  I  explained. 
"I  feared  it.  Did  Longuant  and  his  men 
come  ?" 

"Like  bees,"  she  answered,  with  a  fling  of 
her  arms.  'They  are  everywhere.  We  can  do 
nothing; "  and  she  dropped  her  head  in  her 
arms  and  cried. 


76  MONTLIVET 

Now  what  indeed  could  be  her  motive  ? 
"Never  mind,  Singing  Arrow,"  I  said  experi 
mentally.  "What  is  it  to  you,  after  all?" 

She  wriggled  her  head  to  throw  me  a  wrath 
ful  look.  "I  always  win  at  a  game,"  she  mum 
bled. 

She  was  as  hard  to  read  as  a  purring  cat,  but 
that  did  not  matter.  "We've  not  lost  yet,"  I 
said,  as  slowly  and  coolly  as  if  I  did  not  see  the 
disk  of  the  moon  looking  at  me.  "I  sent  Lon- 
guant  there.  I  was  sure  that  Pemaou  would 
keep  you  away,  and  I  am  playing  for  time.  So 
long  as  the  Ottawas  and  Hurons  are  squabbling 
with  one  another,  Cadillac  will  not  deliver  the 
prisoner.  But  we  must  get  them  farther  away. 
Singing  Arrow,  I  have  brandy  in  my  cargo.  I 
have  drawn  off  two  large  flasks.  Could  you 
carry  them  to  the  other  end  of  the  camp,  and 
send  word  among  the  braves?" 

Now  this  was  a  contemptible  thing  to  suggest ; 
but  any  one  who  stoops,  as  I  was  letting  myself 
do,  to  use  a  cat's-paw  to  work  out  his  ends  will 
surely  soil  his  fingers.  The  sword  is  the  clean 
weapon.  I  felt  that  even  this  Indian  would 
look  at  me  with  disdain,  but  she  did  not.  She 
thought  a  moment,  then  wagged  her  head  in 
assent. 

"But  I  promised  Father  Carheil  not  to  drink 
any  brandy  myself,"  she  added  defiantly,  as 


THE  BEGINNING  77 

if  she  feared  I  might  protest,  and  I  felt  myself 
as  low  as  the  hound  that  I  had  kicked  that  day 
because  it  would  have  stolen  a  child's  sagamite. 

"Make  haste!"  I  cried,  in  a  fury  with  my 
self,  and  with  the  speeding  time.  "  Tell  the  pris 
oner  to  saunter  away  from  the  door,  to  pass  the 
largest  fire,  and  then  to  go  straight  through  the 
old  maize  field  toward  the  timber.  I  will  be  wait 
ing  there." 

"I  can  do  it,"  she  vaunted,  and  she  gathered 
the  brandy  under  her  blanket,  and  ran  like  a 
quail,  while  I  went  to  my  red-topped  giant. 

"Pierre  Boudin,"  I  cried,  with  my  hand  on 
his  collar,  "if  we  get  back  to  this  place  alive, 
you  are  to  marry  that  Ottawa  girl;  to  marry  her 
fairly  with  priest  and  book.  Remember  that." 

My  man  turned  a  complacent  eye.  "If  the 
master  wishes,"  he  said  dutifully.  Then  he 
gave  a  fat  chuckle.  "I  promised  to  marry  her 
when  we  came  back  if  she  would  save  the  Eng 
lishman, —  but  then  I  thought  that  we  should 
go  home  the  other  way." 

Why  try  to  teach  decency  to  a  barnyard  brood ! 
I  dusted  my  fingers  free  from  the  soil  of  him. 
"I  will  marry  her  to  you,  if  only  to  see  her  flout 
you,"  I  promised  vengefully.  "Now  to  the 
canoes,  and  have  your  paddles  ready."  I  had 
no  smile  for  him,  though  he  sought  it,  as  I  walked 
away. 


78  MONTLIVET 

The  moon  had  swung  free  of  the  horizon,  and 
cabins  and  trees  stood  out  as  if  made  of  white 
cardboard.  The  night  was  chilly,  and  as  I 
crept  along  the  edge  of  the  maize  field,  I  caught 
my  numbed  toes  on  the  stiffened  clods  of  earth 
turned  up  by  last  year's  plowing.  Yet  I  moved 
silently,  and  by  keeping  in  the  shadow  of  black 
ened  stumps  and  withered  maize  stalks,  I  reached 
bow-shot  of  the  commandant's  door. 

Truly  one  part  of  my  plan  had  succeeded. 
The  house  was  the  centre  of  an  ant-like  swarm 
skurrying  here  and  there,  apparently  without 
method,  but  with  a  jerkiness  of  movement  that 
suggested  attack  and  recoil.  I  could  distinguish 
the  nose  pendants  of  the  Ottawas  and  the  brist 
ling  crests  of  the  Huron  s.  It  was  a  crew  with 
choice  potentialities  for  mischief.  Cadillac  was 
justified  in  feeling  that  his  scalp  sat  but  unstead 
ily  upon  his  head. 

I  had  given  Singing  Arrow  fifteen  minutes'  to 
hide  her  brandy  and  send  word  to  the  braves, 
and  I  counted  off  the  time  to  myself,  trying  to 
numb  my  anxiety.  But  among  savages  news 
runs  underground  as  well  as  over,  and  I  had 
scarcely  covered  half  the  space  that  I  had  set 
for  myself  before  the  crowd  began  to  disappear. 
It  slipped  away  like  water  between  the  fingers, 
and  in  a  moment  there  remained  only  the  guards, 
Pemaou,  and  a  few  Ottawas.  The  guards, 


THE  BEGINNING  79 

relieved  from  immediate  anxiety  of  a  riot, 
leaned  listlessly  on  their  muskets,  the  Ottawas 
would  not  interfere  with  a  girl  of  their  own  tribe, 
and  Pemaou  could  not  watch  all  quarters  at 
once.  Now  was  certainly  the  time  to  act;  but 
where  was  Singing  Arrow  ?  My  inaction  pressed 
on  me  like  a  hideous  weight.  It  seemed  days 
instead  of  hours  that  I  had  sat  like  a  crone  by 
her  distaff  and  let  others  do  my  work  —  or  fail 
to  do  it.  Why  was  Singing  Arrow  so  slow  to 
come  ? 

I  thought  that  I  had  not  shifted  my  gaze  from 
the  house  for  more  than  an  instant;  but  now,  as 
I  watched  the  door,  I  learned,  and  not  for  the 
first  time,  that  a  white  man  should  have  a  score 
of  eyes  instead  of  two  when  it  comes  to  watching 
an  Indian.  For  the  commandant's  door  sud- 
'denly  opened,  and  out  came  a  blanket-draped, 
skin-clad  figure.  My  muscles  stiffened.  It  was 
the  Englishman.  Singing  Arrow  had  brought 
him  the  clothing,  and  I  had  not  seen. 

So  the  moment  had  come.  I  gripped  my 
sword  as  one  turns  instinctively  to  the  friend 
loved  best.  Would  the  prisoner  act  his  part  ? 
So  keen  was  my  anxiety,  that  I  felt  my  spirit 
leap  out  to  stand  by  his  side,  and  I  shut  my  teeth 
upon  the  cry  of  encouragement  that  welled  within 
me. 

But  he  needed  no  help  of  mine.     He  made  his 


80  MONTLIVET 

way  leisurely  past  the  great  fire,  walking  with 
wonderful  mimicry  of  a  woman's  gait,  and  he 
kept  his  face  well  in  the  shelter  of  the  blanket 
in  a  way  that  suggested  coquetry  rather  than 
disguise. 

And  in  this  manner  he  came  straight  to  me. 
He  came,  unerringly  as  a  sleep-walker,  past 
fires,  past  Indians,  and  through  the  gaunt  rows 
of  maize.  He  looked  neither  to  right  nor  left, 
and  no  one  molested  him.  He  came  to  where 
I  stood  silent,  and  put  out  his  hand  to  touch 
mine. 

"It  is  done,"  he  said  quietly. 

His  fingers  were  warm,  and  his  touch  tingled. 
1  marveled.  "It  is  a  miracle,"  I  said. 

He  looked  at  me  in  question.  'Your  hand  is 
very  cold.  Monsieur,  monsieur,  did  you  fear  for 
me  so  much?" 

I  bowed.  'Yes.  I  did  not  think  it  could  be 
done.  You  are  an  able  man,  monsieur." 

He  did  not  answer  for  a  moment,  and  he  fol 
lowed  me  silently  along  the  edge  of  the  maize 
field.  Then  he  touched  my  shoulder. 

"  Monsieur,  how  strange  the  world  looks 
to-night.  The  moon,  —  have  you  ever  seen  it 
so  remote  and  chill  ?  Oh,  we  are  puppets !  No, 
it  was  not  my  wit  that  carried  me  through.  It 
was  Fate.  Life  has  been  hard  on  me.  She  is 
saving  me  now  for  some  further  trick  she  has  to 


THE   BEGINNING  81 

play.  I  pray  that  it  may  not  bring  you  ill,  mon 
sieur." 

I  knew  not  how  to  answer,  for  I  was  moved. 
As  he  said,  the  moon  made  the  world  strange. 
Great  beauty  is  disturbing,  and  the  night  was  like 
enchantment.  He  had  come  to  me  like  a  dream 
spirit  in  his  woman's  dress.  I  felt  the  need  of  a 
dash  of  cold  water  on  my  spirit. 

'You  must  not  put  on  woman's  fancies  with 
your  petticoats,  monsieur,"  I  cautioned  over  my 
shoulder.  "Now  we  had  best  not  talk  till  we 
are  safe  afloat  in  the  canoes." 

The  men  were  ebon,  the  canoes  vague  gray, 
and  the  water  like  sheet  ice  under  the  moon. 
The  Englishman  and  I  crept  across  the  pebbles 
with  panther  feet,  and  the  splash  of  a  fright 
ened  otter  was  the  only  sound.  I  laid  my 
"finger  on  my  lips,  and  my  men  checked  their 
breathing.  We  were  silent  as  figures  in  a  mir 
ror.  I  tapped  the  Englishman  on  the  shoul 
der,  and  motioned  where  he  should  sit  in  the 
canoe. 

And  then,  from  the  timber  fringe  behind  us, 
came  a  call.  "Singing  Arrow!  Singing  Arrow ! 
Stop!  Stop!" 

Sword  unsheathed,  I  dashed  across  the  open 
space  of  moonlight  toward  the  trees.  Who 
called,  or  why,  I  did  not  question.  But  I  must 
smother  the  noise.  "Singing  Arrow!"  the  call 


82  MONTLIVET 

came  again,  and  the  roar  of  it  in  the  quiet  night 
made  my  flesh  crawl. 

I  had  not  taken  two  strides  into  the  timber 
when  I  saw  a  man  running  toward  me.  He 
was  still  calling.  I  leaped  upon  him,  winding 
an  arm  about  his  neck,  and  covering  his  mouth. 
He  was  a  small  armful ;  a  weazened  body  to  have 
sheltered  so  great  a  power  of  lung. 

"Hush!  For  the  Virgin's  sake,  hush!"  I 
stormed  in  noisy  whispers.  "  Father  Carheil,  is 
it  you?  Hush!  Hush!"  I  dropped  my  hand 
from  his  mouth.  "Now  speak  in  whispers,"  I 
implored. 

The  father  shook  his  cassock  free  from  my 
fingers.  My  embrace  had  been  fervid,  and  his 
cassock  was  rumpled,  and  his  scant  hair  was 
stringing  wildly  from  under  his  skullcap.  But 
shrunken  and  tumbled  as  he  was,  he  was  im 
pressive.  With  some  men,  if  you  disarrange 
their  outer  habit,  you  lower  their  inner  dignity 
as  well.  It  was  not  so  with  Father  Carheil. 

He  looked  at  me  closely,  with  a  sober  gentle 
ness  that  became  him  well,  and  that  he  did  not 
often  use.  "  Why  should  I  go  quietly  ?  "  he  asked. 
"  My  errand  is  righteous.  It  is  only  black  work 
that  needs  the  cover  of  a  silent  tongue.  My 
son,  you  are  letting  your  men  abduct  Singing 
Arrow.  Did  your  promise  to  me  count  for  so 
little  in  your  mind  ?" 


THE  BEGINNING  83 

I  bowed,  and  mumbled  something  meaning 
less  to  gain  time.  I  was  not  clear  as  to  my 
course.  "Why  do  you  think  that  we  have  Sing 
ing  Arrow  ?"  I  blurted  out  finally. 

"Pemaou  told  me." 

Pemaou  again!  But  we  had  tricked  him.  I 
grinned  with  joy  to  think  of  him  with  his  nose 
still  rooted  close  to  the  deserted  hole.  I  could 
almost  forgive  him  for  the  trouble  he  was  caus 
ing  now. 

"Pemaou  lied,"  I  said  cheerfully.  "Sing 
ing  Arrow  is  not  with  us,  Father  Carheil.  Will 
you  go  back  now  ?  My  mission  is  urgent  and 
demands  secrecy." 

He  looked  at  the  ground.  'You  swear  to 
this  ?  You  swear  that  Singing  Arrow  is  not 
with  you?" 

I  laid  my  hand  on  my  sword,  and  bared  my 
head.  "I  swear." 

He  turned  away.  'You  seem  a  gentleman," 
he  said  reluctantly.  "I  regret  that  I  troubled 
you.  I  wish  you  fair  winds,  monsieur." 

Beshrew  me,  but  the  man  could  get  close 
to  my  heart.  'Thank  you,  father,"  I  cried 
earnestly.  "I  \vish  that  I  might  requite  your 
trust  with  greater  candor.  But,  in  the  end,  I 
hope  to  justify  my  means.  I  would  that  I  might 
have  your  blessing  on  my  mission  and  my 
cargo." 


84  MONTLIVET 

Blockhead  that  I  was,  not  to  have  let  well 
enough  alone.  For  I  was  to  blame  for  what 
followed.  I  may  have  grown  unconsciously  rhe 
torical,  and  waved  my  hand  in  the  direction  of 
the  canoes.  I  do  not  know.  I  do  know  that 
at  the  word  "cargo"  Father  Carheil  turned  and 
looked  toward  the  shore.  There,  in  my  canoe, 
with  gaze  searching  the  timber  where  I  had  dis 
appeared,  stood  a  figure,  —  a  woman's  figure  in 
Singing  Arrow's  dress  and  blanket. 

Father  Carheil  looked  at  me.  He  did  not 
speak;  it  was  not  necessary.  I  endured  his 
gaze  for  a  moment,  then  sold  my  prudence  to 
save  my  honor.  I  laid  my  finger  on  the  priest's 
arm. 

"Come  with  me  to  the  canoes,"  I  demanded. 
"  If  you  find  yourself  in  the  wrong,  it  may  teach 
you  to  trust  a  man's  word  against  your  own 
eyesight." 

He  assented.  We  walked  swiftly  across  the 
moon-lighted  open,  and  I  had  scant  time  for 
fear.  Yet  I  was  afraid.  I  could  give  the  Eng 
lishman  no  helping  hand,  no  word  of  warning. 
Would  he  rise  to  the  moment  ? 

He  did.  He  turned  his  back  upon  us,  Indian- 
fashion,  and  squatted  in  his  blanket.  He  lost 
all  suggestion  of  Singing  Arrow's  slim  elasti 
city,  and  sat  in  a  shapeless  huddle.  I  laughed 
with  relief. 


THE  BEGINNING  85 

"Where  is  Singing  Arrow  now?"  I  twitted 
the  priest.  "Is  this  she  ?" 

The  old  priest  peered.  "No,"  he  meditated. 
"No,  this  is  not  Singing  Arrow."  He  wheeled 
on  me  with  one  of  his  flashes  of  temper.  "I 
cannot  recognize  this  girl.  Let  her  take  off  her 
blanket." 

I  motioned  my  men  to  take  stations  in  the 
canoes.  "Father  Carheil,  I  beg  you  to  let  me 
go  at  once,"  I  implored.  ''You  see  you  were 
wrong.  As  to  this  Indian,  you  never  saw  her; 
she  is  a  stranger  here." 

But  the  father  was  not  pacified.  "Let  her 
take  off  her  blanket,"  he  repeated,  with  all  the 
aimless  persistency  of  age. 

Did  I  say  that  the  man  had  grown  close  to 
my  heart?  Why,  I  could  have  shaken  him. 
-But  the  Englishman  cut  the  knot.  He  turned 
with  a  hunch  of  the  shoulder,  and  peered  at  us 
over  the  corner  of  his  blanket.  Gesture,  and 
roll  of  the  head,  he  was  an  Indian.  I  was  so 
pleased  at  the  mimicry,  that  I  gave  way  to  wit 
less  laughter. 

"  Now ! "  I  cried  triumphantly.  "  Now,  are  you 
satisfied  ?" 

But  the  priest  did  not  reply.  He  stared,  and 
his  eyes  grew  ferret-sharp.  Then  he  shifted  his 
position,  and  stared  again.  It  beat  into  my 
brain  that  he  had  lived  thirty  years  among  the 


86  MONTLIVET 

Indians,  and  that  his  eyes  were  trained.  He 
could  see  meanings,  where  I  saw  a  blank  wall. 

"This  is  no  Indian  woman,"  he  said  slowly, 
with  a  wagging  forefinger  that  beat  off  his  words 
like  the  minute  hand  of  Fate.  "This  is  —  this 
is  —  why,  this  is  the  English  prisoner!" 

He  brought  out  the  last  words  in  a  crescendo, 
and  again  my  hand  clapped  tight  against  his 
mouth. 

"Be  still!  Be  still!"  I  spluttered  wildly,  and 
I  threw  a  disordered  glance  at  the  horizon,  and 
at  my  astonished  crew.  I  had  not  meant  that 
the  men,  except  Pierre,  should  be  taken  into 
the  secret  until  we  were  well  afloat.  Here  was 
another  contretemps. 

"Are  you  mad,  Father  Carheil!"  I  began, 
with  a  sorry  show  of  dignity,  while  my  palm 
stuck  like  a  leech  against  his  lips.  ;'This  is 
not  "  - 

"Not  any  one  but  the  prisoner  himself,"  in 
terrupted  the  Englishman's  voice.  He  dropped 
his  blanket,  arid  sprang  to  the  sand.  "Do  not 
lie  for  me,  monsieur,"  he  went  on  in  his  indolent, 
drawling  French  that  already  had  come  to  have 
a  pleasant  quaintness  in  my  ears.  "  Monsieur,  let 
me  speak  to  the  father." 

If  Nature  had  given  me  a  third  hand,  I  should 
have  used  it  to  throttle  the  Englishman.  "Get 
back  in  the  canoe!"  I  stormed. 


THE  BEGINNING  87 

He  motioned  me  away.  Standing  slim  and  tall 
in  Singing  Arrow's  dress,  he  put  me  —  such 
creatures  of  outward  seeming  are  we  —  ab 
surdly  in  the  wrong,  as  if  I  had  been  rude  to  a 
woman. 

"Father  Carheil,"  he  began,  "your  ears  at 
least  are  not  fettered.  Listen,  if  you  will.  This 
man  is  not  to  blame.  I  was  thrown  in  his  way, 
and  he  took  me  from  pity,  to  save  my  life.  Now 
that  I  am  discovered,  I  will  go  back  to  prison 
writh  you.  Let  this  man  -go  west.  Whatever  his 
business,  it  is  pressing." 

With  two  mad  men  on  my  hands,  I  had  to 
choose  between  them.  I  dropped  the  priest,  and 
gripped  the  Englishman. 

"If  you  go  back,  I  go  with  you! "  I  raged  in 
his  ear.  Then  I  turned  to  Father  Carheil. 
"Are  you  going  to  report  this,  father?  It  is  as 
the  Englishman  says.  I  take  him  as  the  only 
way  to  save  him  from  torture.  May  we  go  ?" 

The  father  thought  a  moment.  "No,"  he 
said. 

I  gripped  my  sword.  'You  have  seen  tor 
ture,  Father  Carheil.  Would  you  hand  this  man 
over  to  it?" 

The  father  looked  at  me  as  if  I  were  print  for 
his  reading.  "I  am  piecing  facts  together,"  he 
said,  with  unmoved  slowness.  "Singing  Arrow 
is  in  league  with  you,  for  the  prisoner  is  wearing 


88  MONTLIVET 

her  clothes.  The  Indians  are  wild  with  brandy, 
which,  it  is  rumored,  Singing  Arrow  furnished. 
The  brandy  must  have  come  from  you.  Is  that 
so  ?  Answer  me.  Answer,  in  the  name  of  the 
Holy  Church.  Is  that  so?" 

I  bowed.  'You  are  a  logician,"  I  said  bit 
terly.  "  Father,  I  can  hear  the  tom-toms.  It  is 
a  miracle  that  we  have  escaped  undetected  so 
long.  Our  respite  cannot  last  many  minutes 
longer.  May  we  go?" 

My  tone  seemed  to  reach  him,  and  he  wavered 
a  moment.  "Perhaps,"  he  began  haltingly;  then 
he  backed  several  paces.  "No!"  he  cried,  all 
his  small  wiry  figure  suddenly  tense.  "No! 
You  are  a  dangerous  man.  You  carry  brandy, 
and  no  one  knows  your  errand.  If  I  let  you 
go,  I  may  save  one  man  from  torture,  —  which, 
after  all,  is  but  an  open  door  to  the  blessed 
after  life,  —  but  I  shall  be  letting  you  carry 
brandy  and  perdition  on  to  scores  of  souls. 
No."  And  he  opened  his  mouth  to  call  for 
help. 

But  I  was  on  him  before  his  shout  could  frame 
itself  to  sound.  I  drew  my  handkerchief,  and 
tied  it,  bandage-firm,  across  his  mouth.  Then 
I  called  to  Pierre,  and  bidding  him  bring  me 
thongs  from  our  store  in  the  canoe,  I  proceeded 
to  bind  the  priest  firmly.  He  was  slight  as  a 
woman  in  my  hands.  I  could  feel  the  sharp- 


THE    BEGINNING  89 

ness  and  brittleness  of  his  old  bones  through 
his  wrinkled  skin,  and  I  was  sick  at  myself.  "I 
am  sorry.  I  am  sorry.  I  am  sorry,"  I  heard 
myself  repeating,  explaining  to  him,  and  to  my 
self,  and,  mostly,  to  the  God  who  judges  us.  I 
looked  at  the  wonderful  mobile  old  face,  with 
all  its  weakness,  and  all  its  wonderful  white  good 
ness,  and  hated  myself  for  laying  hands  of  vio 
lence  on  such  a  man.  "I  am  sorry,"  I  cried 
again.  I  looked  at  the  spit  of  land  that  sepa 
rated  us  from  the  camp,  and  the  light  from  the 
fires  glowed  red  above  it.  The  din  of  dogs  and 
men  swelled  high.  Something  was  happening. 
I  glanced  down  at  the  priest,  but  turned  away 
quickly,  for  I  had  no  stomach  for  what  I  had 
done. 

'They  will  find  you  soon,"  I  said,  with  my 
throat  tightening.     "God  knows  I'm  sorry." 

Then  I  dashed  to  the  canoes.  "Quickly!"  I 
cried,  and  I  shoved  the  Englishman  down  be 
hind  me,  that  I  might  not  have  to  see  even  the 
glint  of  his  red  blanket  to  anger  me  by  thought 
of  what  I  had  sacrificed. 

In  a  moment,  our  paddles  were  dipping.  I 
looked  back  at  the  settlement.  "It  is  done!" 
I  cried  under  my  breath,  and  I  could  not  forbid 
a  moment  of  exultation.  I  glanced  at  the  Eng 
lishman. 

But  I  met  no  exultation  there.     The  man's 


90  MONTLIVET 

strange  eyes  were  still  grave.  "No,  monsieur,  it 
is  just  begun,"  he  corrected,  and  I  thought,  as 
I  saw  his  look  at  the  retreating  shore,  that  he 
shrunk  from  the  uncertainties  ahead  more  than 
from  the  death  behind.  Was  there  a  coward 
streak  in  him,  after  all  ?  I  turned  my  back,  and 
did  not  speak  again. 


CHAPTER    VIII 

PARTNERS 

To  paddle  by  day,  to  work  in  sun  and  breeze,  is 
a  pastime,  but  to  paddle  by  night  drains  a  man's 
endurance.  For  long  hours  our  canoes  nosed 
their  way  around  headland  after  headland  and 
along  wild  shores  peopled  by  beasts  and  shadows. 
The  black  water  was  a  threat  and  a  mystery, 
and  the  moonlight  was  chill,  so  that  our  limbs, 
which  should  have  bounded  with  red  blood, 
were  aching  and  leaden  with  the  cold.  I  stretched 
myself  with  relief  when  the  red-streaked  horizon 
told  me  it  was  time  to  land  and  make  camp. 

I  was  prepared  for  pursuit,  but  knew  that,  with 
Pierre  in  one  canoe  and  Labarthe  in  the  other, 
we  must  be  well  in  advance  of  it.  Now  I  pur 
posed  to  stop  and  hide.  It  is  more  to  my  taste 
to  be  hound  than  hare,  and  I  do  not  like  an 
enemy  snapping  at  my  heels.  So  I  prepared  to 
land.  Once  the  pursuing  canoes  had  passed  us 
we  could  take  up  the  chase  on  our  own  part  and 
follow  at  leisure. 

I  called  the  word  to  the  other  canoe,  and  then 
as  we  swung  shoreward  I  turned  to  look  at  the 
Englishman.  All  night  I  had  heard  no  sound 


92  MONTLIVET 

from  him,  nor  glanced  his  way.  My  thoughts 
of  him  had  been  bitter,  for  he  was  a  sore  weight 
on  my  hands.  Yet  this  I  knew  was  unjust,  and 
I  was  shamed  for  my  own  bad  temper.  My  sur 
liness  must  have  pricked  him,  as  he  sat  silent 
through  the  long  hours  of  dark  and  cold;  and 
now  that  the  approaching  sun  was  putting  me  in 
a  better  humor,  I  could  see  that  I  had  been  hard, 
and  I  determined  to  speak  to  him  fairly. 

And  so  I  turned,  puckering  my  lips  to  a  smile 
that  did  not  come  easily,  for  my  face  was  stiff 
and  my  spirit  sore.  But  I  might  have  spared 
my  pains.  The  prisoner  was  asleep.  He  lay  in 
a  chrysalis  of  red  blanket,  his  head  tipped  back 
on  a  bundle  of  sailcloth,  his  face  to  the  stars. 
He  was  submerged  in  the  deep  slumber  where 
the  soul  deserts  the  body  and  travels  unknown 
ways.  Judged  by  his  look  of  lax  muscles  and 
surrender,  he  had  lain  that  way  for  hours,  —  the 
hours  when  I  had  been  punishing  him  with  my 
averted  glance. 

I  woke  him  with  a  hand  on  his  shoulder. 
'You  slept  well,"  I  accused. 

He  shivered  under  my  hand  and  opened  his 
eyes.  It  took  him  an  instant  to  recognize  me,  but 
when  he  did  he  smiled  with  relief.  I  could  not 
but  see  that  there  was  something  pleasant  in  his 
smile.  I  saw,  too,  that  sleep  had  wiped  the  lines 
from  his  face,  and  given  him  a  touch  of  color. 


PARTNERS  93 

"Did  I  sleep?  Did  I  really  sleep?"  he  mar 
veled.  "Monsieur,  you  are  very  good  to  me." 

But  I  was  in  no  holiday  humor,  so  only 
shrugged,  and  told  him  to  unload  the  bales.  He 
smiled  again,  nodding,  and  jumped  to  the  shore 
with  buoyancy  that  was  an  affront  to  our  numbed 
muscles.  But  once  at  work  he  was  as  useless  as 
a  sailor  in  a  hayfield.  He  could  lift  nothing, 
and  he  was  hopelessly  under  foot.  I  bade  him 
stand  aside,  and  I  prayed  for  patience.  After 
all  he  was  young,  and  had  been  through  great 
hardship.  I  would  spare  him  what  I  could  for 
a  time. 

It  is  depressing  to  work  in  a  cold  dawn  on  an 
empty  stomach.  Our  landing  had  been  made 
at  the  mouth  of  a  rivulet,  and  we  followed  it  till 
we  found  a  place,  some  quarter  mile  inland,  that 
was  open  enough  for  a  camp.  Here  bale  by  bale 
we  brought  the  cargo,  piling  it  under  trees  and 
covering  it  with  sailcloth.  The  canoes  we  put 
bottom  up  in  the  open,  that  the  sun  might  dry 
them.  I  left  Pierre  hidden  at  the  shore  to  watch 
the  horizon  for  our  pursuers,  and  the  rest  of  us 
proceeded  to  breakfast. 

It  was  cheerless.  When  I  say  we  made  a 
camp  it  is  misleading,  for  we  could  not  swing 
our  kettles  for  fear  of  the  betraying  smoke.  We 
sat  down  stiffly,  for  the  ground  was  still  wet 
from  the  night  dew,  and  we  passed  our  bags  of 


94  MONTLIVET 

dried  maize  and  jerked  meat  from  hand  to  hand. 
I  made  some  ado  to  eat  cheerfully,  for  I  saw  that 
the  men  were  surly  from  this  unnecessary  hard 
ship.  The  western  Indians  were  friendly,  and  if 
we  had  not  had  this  incubus  of  an  Englishman 
on  our  hands  we  should  have  had  fire  and  song,  a 
boiling  pot,  and  roasting  maize  cakes.  There  was 
no  muttering  among  the  men,  for  I  was  there, 
but  they  looked  glowering,  and  drew  away. 

The  Englishman  ate  in  silence.  I  was  too 
ruffled  and  crossgrained  to  talk  to  him,  but 
I  could  not  keep  myself  from  watching  him. 
His  eyes  were  less  sad  than  I  had  thought.  I 
could  imagine  that  they  might  easily  be  merry. 
But  they  were  watchful  eyes.  He  saw  the  dis 
content  among  the  men,  and  finally  he  rose  and 
went  to  them.  I  followed  him  with  some  warn 
ing  in  my  look,  for  I  thought  that  he  was  vexed, 
and  I  knew  that  his  tongue  was  sharp,  but  I 
realized  in  a  moment  that  his  brain  was  in  con 
trol  and  that  he  was  safe. 

"I  have  brought  you  all  discomfort,"  he  said, 
with  a  shake  of  the  head,  and  his  slow  French 
gave  his  words  more  meaning  than  they  perhaps 
deserved.  "I  regret  this.  It  is  hard  for  me  to 
bear,  for  it  is  new  to  me  to  be  a  burden.  But 
what  can  I  do?  I  cannot  go  away.  I  am  not 
enamored  of  this  voyage,  for  I  do  not  like  being 
thrust  upon  your  company,  but  you  saved  my 


PARTNERS  95 

life,  and  I  have  no  right  to  throw  away  what  you 
went  to  such  lengths  to  preserve.  What  would 
you  have  me  do?" 

The  oafs  exchanged  glances.  They  spoke 
after  a  minute  in  a  united,  disjointed  grumble. 

"  You  don't  work." 

The  Englishman  looked  at  them  and  at  me. 
I  realized  that  he  was  curiously  slight  and  young, 
and  that  we  seemed  hostile.  That  was  hardly 
just,  and  I  was  ready  to  go  to  his  rescue.  But 
he  turned  from  me  to  the  men. 

"It  is  true  that  I  work  very  badly,"  he  said. 
"I  do  not  know  how.  But  men  are  born  of 
women,  and --well,  what  a  man  can  do  I  can 
learn.  Suppose,  now,  that  I  go  and  relieve 
Pierre  at  the  watch.  If  you  will  show  me  what 
to  do  I  think  you  will  find  me  teachable.  I 
shall  try  to  be  as  little  of  a  burden  as  possible. 
Here  is  my  hand  on  it."  And  he  held  out  his 
slim  palm  for  their  grasp. 

Again  they  stared;  but  the  hand  won  them. 
They  touched  it  fumblingly  and  were  impressed. 
They  were  a  slow  lot,  selected  for  various  pur 
poses  other  than  wit.  Their  minds  moved  too 
sluggishly  for  swift  reactions,  and  I  dismissed 
anxiety  about  them  from  my  mind. 

The  Englishman  turned  to  me.  "Will  you 
conduct  me  to  the  shore  ?  I  will  take  Pierre's 
place." 


96  MONTLIVET 

It  was  my  turn  to  stare.  "Suppose  you  con 
duct  yourself,"  was  on  my  tongue,  but  I  let  it 
escape  unsaid.  "Come,  then,"  I  answered,  with 
a  shrug. 

I  led  the  way  over  logs  and  under  bushes, 
and  the  Englishman  followed  silently;  silently 
at  least  as  to  his  tongue,  but  his  feet  were  gar 
rulous.  They  stepped  on  twigs,  stumbled  on 
slippery  lichen,  and  shouted  their  passage  for 
rods  around. 

"I  would  rather  lead  a  buffalo  in  tether,"  I 
fretted,  and  just  as  I  said  it  he  completed  the 
sum  of  his  blundering  by  catching  his  toe  in  a 
root  and  plunging  head  foremost  to  the  ground. 
I  pulled  him  up  by  the  sleeve  of  his  skin  blouse 
and  shook  him  free  from  loam  and  twigs. 

"Now  will  you  stop  that?"  I  cried. 

He  looked  at  me  gravely,  unabashed,  but  cu 
rious.  "  I  did  not  fall  purposely  to  irritate  you. 
Gravity,  which,  I  understand,  operates  alike  on 
the  learned  and  the  foolish,  had  some  share  in  it. 
Why  are  you  angry?" 

"Why  are  you  reckless?  You  have  crashed 
through  here  as  careless  of  noise  as  a  stag  with 
the  hounds  hot  behind." 

He  dropped  to  the  ground,  and  took  one  slim 
moccasined  foot  in  his  hand.  He  looked  at  it 
soberly.  "It  seems  a  small  thing,  does  it  not, 
to  cause  so  much  ill-will  between  us?  It  has 


PARTNERS  97 

neither  weight  nor  mental  force  above  it,  that  it 
should  make  the  earth  tremble.  No,  monsieur, 
you  are  searching  for  excuses  for  your  annoyance 
with  me.  You  are  annoyed  all  the  time.  I  vex 
you  by  my  silence,  still  more  by  my  speech.  We 
are  to  be  some  time  together,  and  I  do  not  want 
to  be  a  constant  canker.  Is  it  not  possible  for 
you  to  forget  me,  to  ignore  me  ?" 

I  saw  he  was  in  earnest.  "And  so  you  really 
do  not  know  what  irritated  me  ?  Are  you  so 
little  of  a  woodsman  ?" 

"  I  have  never  traveled  through  the  woods." 

I  gave  him  a  dubious  glance.  'Yet  you  were 
weeks  with  the  Hurons  after  your  capture." 

I  saw  him  set  his  teeth  hard  as  if  at  a  memory. 
"We  traveled  by  water  ways.  I  was  little  on 
the  shore  except  at  night." 

A  sudden  picture  sickened  me.  The  nightly 
camp  and  this  slender  lad  with  his  curious  air  of 
daintiness,  and  the  great  oily  Hurons  lounging  in 
the  dirt  and  smoke. 

"Were  they  cruel  to  you ?"  I  broke  out. 

He  shook  his  head.  "No,"  he  said,  with  the 
air  of  justice  I  had  liked  in  him  heretofore;  "no, 
they  were  not  cruel.  Indeed  they  were  almost 
kind,  in  that  they  left  me  a  great  deal  alone.  I 
feared  from  the  clemency  they  showed  me  that 
they  were  reserving  me  for  torture." 

I  eyed  him  with  some  skepticism.     "It  was 


98  MONTLIVET 

not  the  Hurons,  but  their  rivals,  the  Ottawas, 
who  would  have  sent  you  to  the  stake,"  I  ex 
plained  curtly.  "The  Hurons -- those  of  the 
Baron's  band  --  would  have  held  you  as  a  hos 
tage, —  perhaps  as  a  deputy." 

He  looked  up  with  interested  eyes.  'You  are 
playing  some  political  game,  and  these  tribes  are 
your  counters.  I  should  like  to  understand." 

I  examined  his  look,  but  could  make  nothing 
of  it.  'You  will  pardon  me,  monsieur,"  I  said 
with  a  shrug,  "but  these  are  troublous  times,  and 
I  find  it  hard  to  believe  you  as  ignorant  as  you 
seem." 

He  still  met  my  look.  "And  if  I  were  not 
ignorant?"  he  asked.  "Could  I,  one  English 
man,  alone  and  unarmed,  accomplish  anything 
that  would  hurt  you  ?  You  see  that  I  am  harm 
less.  Why  not  be  friends  ?  " 

I  shrugged  my  shoulders. 

"So  you  are  determined  that  I  am  a  secret 
ambassador,"  he  meditated.  "Well,  I  must  act 
my  part  with  dignity.  And  you  think  we  can 
not  be  comrades?  I  dislike  to  irritate  you  as 
I  do." 

I  answered  him  soberly.  "We  will  be  part 
ners,"  I  agreed;  "friends  for  the  night's  bivouac, 
willing  to  help  and  to  share." 

"But  you  will  not  trust  me?" 

I  looked   away.     "What  would  a  truce  be- 


PARTNERS  99 

tween  us  mean  ?  You  are  English,  I,  French. 
Be  assured  that  sooner  or  later  the  fox  eats  the 
hen." 

He  laughed.  "Who  is  to  be  the  fox?"  He 
jumped  to  his  feet.  "Partners,  then,  it  shall  be. 
A  strange  creed.  A  helping  hand  to-day  and  a 
knife  in  the  back  to-morrow.  But  I  shall  follow 
you,  monsieur." 

"You  will  follow?" 

"In  this  path  as  in  others.  If  you  refuse  to 
admit  even  a  truce  between  us,  I  agree.  I 
shall  keep  out  of  your  way  as  much  as  possible. 
Only  -  -  I  would  not  have  you  think  me  ungrate 
ful." 

I  could  never  forbear  a  smile  when  he  was 
serious.  "We  shall  probably  think  very  little 
about  each  other,"  I  said  comfortably.  "  Once 
settled  into  routine  we  shall  have  work  to  fill 
our  thought.  You  will  learn  to  do  your  share. 
I  think  you  willing." 

"Indeed  I  am  willing,  monsieur." 

"Good.  So  we  shall  work  hard,  sleep  early, 
and  the  months  will  pass  before  we  know.  Let 
us  not  talk  of  trust  or  friendship,  since  our  ways 
are  divided." 

He  bowed.  ''You  are  right,  monsieur.  And 
I  meant  only  this,  —  I  will  try  not  to  be  an  irri 
tation.  You  will  try  not  to  think  of  me  as  such. 
You  agree?" 


100  MONTLIVET 

I  smiled  again.  :<Yes.  Partners  for  the 
night,"  I  reminded  him.  "I  am  gratified,  Mon 
sieur  Starling,  that  you  see  the  matter  so  rea 
sonably.  There  is  a  gulf  between  us,  and  we 
cannot  change  it."  We  did  not  speak  again  till 
we  reached  Pierre  at  the  shore. 


CHAPTER  IX 

WESTWARD 

WHERE  were  the  pursuing  Indians  ?  For  two 
days  we  watched,  and  the  water  was  unflecked 
by  sign  of  life.  We  listened  in  the  murk  of  night 
and  strained  our  eyes  in  the  sun's  dazzle.  But 
we  found  nothing  but  forest  and  sky  and  mys 
tery.  We  were  alone  with  our  shadows. 

The  forty-eight  hours  crawled.  Except  at 
noonday  we  were  chilled,  our  stomachs  com 
plained  of  the  cold  food,  and  our  minds,  and 
therefore  our  bodies,  were  sluggish.  The  Eng 
lishman  had  the  best  of  it,  for  he  could  sleep  like 
a  bear  in  winter.  Save  for  the  hours  when  he 
was  on  watch  he  knew  but  little  of  what  was 
passing.  He  lay  on  the  warm  side  of  the  bank 
and  slept  with  his  face  to  the  sun. 

At  the  end  of  two  days  I  felt  that  I  had  paid 
all  reasonable  due  to  Prudence,  and  could  follow 
Inclination  and  be  comfortable. 

"We  shall  push  on  at  daybreak  to-morrow," 
I  told  the  men.  "Hang  the  kettles.  To-night 
we  shall  have  a  boiling  pot." 

Truly  a  fire  makes  home  of  a  wilderness.  We 
sat  with  our  heels  to  the  blaze,  and  grew  jovial. 


102  MONTLIVET 

The  Englishman  said  little,  but  was  alert  to 
serve  us. 

"It  is  salt  to  the  broth  to  have  it  given  me  by 
a  pretty  squaw,"  I  told  him  as  he  filled  my  bowl 
a  second  time. 

He  flushed  with  anger,  and  I  thought  myself  that 
it  was  a  cheap  jest  and  unworthy.  He  had  been 
considerate  to  wear  his  disguise  without  complaint. 

"  I  shall  find  something  for  you  to  wear  when 
we  shift  our  cargo  to  leave,"  I  promised  him, 
and  since  my  mood  was  still  mellow,  I  looked 
him  over  with  a  smile.  He  had  smoothed  and 
rounded  in  a  wonderful  manner  in  his  two  days 
of  rest,  and  I  was  pleased  by  the  red  in  his 
cheeks.  'You  will  soon  be  a  second  Pierre  if 
you  sleep  and  eat  in  this  fashion,"  I  laughed  at 
him,  "  and  then  there  will  be  no  room  for  you  in 
the  canoe.  If  all  your  countrymen  sleep  as  you 
do,  it  is  small  wonder  that  they  have  left  us  un 
disturbed  in  the  beaver  lands." 

He  smiled  a  little  in  deference  to  my  small 
jest,  but  the  next  instant  he  looked  away.  "I 
had  not  slept  in  weeks,"  he  said  softly,  as  if 
ashamed  of  his  excuse. 

That  shamed  me,  and  I  came  to  my  feet  and 
let  my  bowl  of  broth  spill  where  it  would. 

"Sleep  well,  lad.  You  are  safe  with  us,"  I 
cried,  and  I  left  my  meal  unfinished,  and  went 
to  the  hidden  cargo.  Then  and  there  I  would 


WESTWARD  103 

find  proper  clothing  for  the  Englishman.  I  had 
been  slothful  in  the  matter. 

The  clothing  was  stored  deep,  and  I  was  bend 
ing  to  the  search  with  some  shortness  of  breath, 
when  the  Englishman  touched  my  shoulder. 

"Is  it  clothing  for  me?" 

I  handed  him  a  blanket  coat  for  answer.  "  It 
is  large,  but  warm,"  I  said,  and  bent  again  to  my 
task. 

Still  he  kept  a  hand  on  my  shoulder.  "Mon 
sieur,  I  am  satisfied  with  my  dress." 

I  could  be  putty  in  his  hands  one  moment  and 
scorn  him  the  next.  "Nonsense!"  I  snapped 
over  my  shoulder. 

But  he  clung  like  a  gnat.  "It  is  not  nonsense. 
Stop  a  moment  and  listen  to  my  reasons." 

I  drew  myself  up  reluctantly.     "Well?" 

He  stood  with  arms  akimbo,  his  head  to  one 
side.  "It  is  as  plain  as  a  pikestaff.  In  this 
dress  I  can  go  where  you  cannot.  I  can  recon 
noitre  for  you.  In  your  man's  coat  I  should  be 
grotesque,  for  it  is  twice  my  size.  I  should  be 
noticeable  and  draw  comment  on  us.  As  it  is,  I 
can  go  unobserved." 

Now  this  was  partly  true.  "  But  the  presence 
of  a  woman  would  discredit  our  canoes,"  I  ob 
jected. 

He  turned  this  over.  "A  woman  would  dis 
credit  your  party?" 


104  MONTLIVET 

"Of  course." 

"But  no  one  sees  you  but  the  Indians." 

"They  report  to  the  priests." 

"And  you  care  what  the  priests  think  ?" 

"I  care  for  the  good  name  of  my  company. 
Monsieur,  do  you  like  to  wear  a  squaw's 
dress?" 

He  laughed.  "Why  not?  I  like  women. 
Why  scorn  their  garb  ?  But  I  see  your  reasons, 
monsieur.  They  are  better  than  mine.  So  get 
out  the  clothing,  —  though  I  shall  look  like  an 
eel  in  a  bear's  skin." 

But  I  had  lost  my  haste.  Mock  woman  that 
he  was,  he  was  yet  somewhat  pleasant  to  the  eye. 
I  had  noticed  more  than  once  the  picture  that 
he  made  as  he  came  and  went  among  the  trees. 
Yet  I  thought  lightly  of  myself  for  enjoying  the 
deceit  of  my  eyesight.  I  rose. 

"Wear  your  skirts,  then,  for  a  few  days  lon 
ger,"  I  said  coldly.  "It  is  too  dark  to  find  what 
I  want.  Come  now.  We  must  sleep  early,  and 
be  up  betimes,  for  we  shall  take  up  our  journey 
in  the  morning." 

We  were  astir  at  daybreak.  It  was  a  red 
morning,  and  the  birds  were  singing.  The  air 
was  keen,  but  the  fire  snapped  cheerfully,  and 
the  sky  gave  promise  of  a  warm  day.  We  car 
ried  the  bales  to  the  beach,  and  were  ready  for 
the  canoes.  Then  I  missed  the  Englishman. 


WESTWARD  105 

He  had  been  aloof  and  moody  during  breakfast, 
and  I  searched  for  him  with  some  alarm. 

1  found  him  in  the  hollow  where  he  slept  at 
night;  he  would  not  sleep  near  the  rest  of  us, 
saying  that  we  disturbed  him  with  our  snoring. 
He  was  on  his  back,  his  gaze  on  the  tree-tops, 
and  he  was  frowning  heavily. 

I  broke  through  the  bushes.     "You  are  ill!" 

He  jumped  to  his  feet.  "No,  no,  monsieur! 
Ill  only  in  mind.  Monsieur,  I  have  failed  you." 

I  had  never  seen  his  aplomb  so  shaken.  "  Why 
were  you  lying  on  the  ground  ?" 

"To  find  out  whether  I  could  see  again  what 
I  saw  last  night.  Do  you  see  that  balsam,  —  the 
one  with  the  forked  top  ?  Monsieur,  I  saw  an 
Indian's  face  in  that  tree  last  night." 

I  took  his  hands,  which  were  cold.  "Now 
tell  me." 

He  drew  his  hands  away.  "  I  am  often  awake 
in  the  night.  Last  night  the  moon  was  clear. 
All  at  once  I  saw  an  Indian's  face  looking  out 
from  that  tree." 

"And  you  did  not  call  me!" 

"Monsieur,  I  thought  it  must  be  fancy.  I 
have  troubled  dreams.  I  often  —  since  my  cap 
ture  —  think  I  see  an  Indian,  and  it  proves  to 
be  nothing  but  a  bush.  So  I  distrust  my  eyes, 
especially  at  night.  Then  Frai^ois  was  on 
watch,  and  several  times  he  walked  this  way. 


106  MONTLIVET 

If  it  had  really  been  an  Indian  would  not  Fran- 
9ois  have  seen  ?" 

I  pointed  him  to  the  forest.  "Do  you  see 
anything  ?  We  seem  alone,  yet  there  are  count 
less  eyes  watching  us,  from  the  squirrel  over  your 
head  to  the  Indian  who  may  be  listening  now. 
When  you  lay  on  your  back  just  now  did  you  see 
anything  that  looked  like  a  face?" 

He  shook  his  head.  "  No,  the  space  was  open. 
But,  monsieur,  I  have  been  over  the  ground.  I 
can  find  no  track." 

I  went  to  the  balsam  and  examined  it.  Then 
I  called  the  Englishman  and  pointed  to  a  patch 
of  rubbed  lichen  on  the  bark  above  our  heads. 
"  His  foot  slipped.  What  was  he  like  ?  How 
was  his  hair  dressed?" 

He  gasped  a  little.  "Monsieur,  it  could  not 
have  been  a  real  Indian.  The  rubbed  moss,  — - 
why,  an  animal  could  have  done  that.  As  to 
his  appearance,  it  was  strange.  His  head  was 
shaved  on  one  side,  and  he  had  long  braided 
hair  on  the  other.  Surely  it  was  a  dream." 

I  laughed.  "Come,  Starling,  the  canoes  are 
waiting." 

"Monsieur,  did  you  ever  see  an  Indian  shaved 
in  that  way?" 

I  nodded.     "Many  times." 

"Monsieur,  monsieur!  What  kind  of  Indi 
ans?" 


WESTWARD  107 

"It  is  a  Huron  mode." 

"Then  we  have  been  followed?" 

I  shrugged.  "Evidently.  I  do  not  under 
stand  their  game,  but  they  will  declare  it  soon 
enough.  Come,  Starling." 

But  he  lingered.  "Monsieur,  I  blundered.  I 
should  have  waked  you." 

I  stopped  to  lay  a  hand  on  his  shoulder. 
"And  you  will  blunder  again  if  you  waste 
strength  in  regrets.  Come,  a  hangdog  look  means 
a  divided  mind,  and  I  need  your  wits.  Keep 
what  watch  you  can,  and  we  shall  say  nothing 
of  this." 

The  men  had  carried  the  canoes  to  the  beach, 
and  now  sat  beside  them,  drumming  their  heels 
in  idleness.  This  gave  me  excuse  for  rating 
them,  and  I  did  it  with  force  of  lung.  Thinking 
that  there  were  Indians  —  or,  at  least,  an  Indian 
—  in  hiding,  I  hoped  to  draw  them  from  cover 
in  this  fashion.  But  my  brave  periods  rattled 
uselessly.  The  forest  kept  its  springtime  peace, 
and  all  that  I  got  out  of  my  display  of  spirit  was 
the  excitement  of  playing  my  part  well  to  an 
unseen  audience.  We  were  allowed  to  load  our 
canoes  in  peace. 

And  more,  we  were  allowed  to  depart.  I  was 
prepared  for  a  flight  of  arrows  as  a  parting 
courtesy,  but  none  came.  Well,  I  could  make 
nothing  of  the  situation.  I  stored  the  inci- 


108  MONTLIVET 

dent  away  as  something  to  remember,  but  not  to 
distress  myself  about.  The  men  sang  as  they 
dipped  their  blades.  I  sang,  too,  when  I  could 
get  the  tune.  It  was  a  fine  morning,  and  my 
blood  was  astir.  I  saw  the  Englishman's  color 
rise  under  the  whip  of  the  quick  motion  and  the 
keen  air.  He  did  not  speak  unless  I  addressed 
him,  but  his  look  was  almost  happy.  I  could 
not  help  liking  it  in  him  that  he  should  enjoy 
the  freedom  of  our  journeying,  and  should  feel 
the  majesty  of  the  untraveled  waters.  I  saw  that 
he  was  trying,  as  he  promised,  not  to  intrude  upon 
my  notice,  and  I  wondered  a  little  what  he  would 
be  saying  to  me  now  if  I  had  answered  him  other 
wise,  and  had  said  that  we  could  be  friends. 
Perhaps  I  had  cut  myself  off  from  pleasant  in 
tercourse.  He  certainly  had  gayety  of  spirit,  even 
if  he  somewhat  lacked  in  strength  of  head. 

We  paddled  only  till  mid-afternoon.  I  was 
as  eager  to  meet  the  western  Indians  as  I  had 
been  anxious  to  avoid  those  we  left  behind,  and 
now  my  object  was  to  invite  attention.  It  was 
the  season  for  beaver  and  otter  trapping,  and 
I  hoped  to  encounter  hunting  parties,  so  we 
landed,  made  camp  in  the  open,  and  piled  our 
fire  till  the  smoke  blurred  the  sky. 

The  spirit  of  the  afternoon  was  toward  idle 
ness.  We  fished  some,  but  loitered  more,  and 
I  had  no  word  of  reproof  for  the  men  for  using 


WESTWARD  109 

hours  of  good  daylight  playing  the  dish  game 
they  had  learned  among  the  Ottawas.  I  heard 
them  stake  their  patrimony  in  this  world,  and 
their  hopes  of  the  next,  on  the  throw  of  the 
black  and  yellow  balls,  but  I  smoked  my  pipe, 
and  let  them  brag  and  squabble.  The  bees 
were  droning,  the  sun  lay  warm  on  my  back,  and 
the  forest  was  at  peace.  Two  years  before,  I 
remembered,  I  had  worn  lace  and  periwig  on 
this  day,  and  had  stood  in  his  majesty's  ante 
chamber.  Now  I  was  gaunt  and  rusty  as  a  bear 
in  spring.  I  looked  at  the  secret  forest,  the 
uncharted  water,  and  at  my  smoke-grimed  men 
squatting  like  monkeys  over  a  savage  game,  and 
I  smote  my  knee  with  content.  Truly  it  was  a 
satisfying  thing  to  live  while  the  world  afforded 
such  contrasts!  And  if  I  played  my  present 
cards  with  skill,  there  might  be  a  still  greater 
contrast  in  store  for  me  when  next  I  stood  in 
that  ante-chamber  and  heard  my  name  carried 
within.  But  that  thought  made  me  restless, 
and  I  went  in  search  of  the  Englishman. 

The  Englishman  had  sat  apart  from  us 
since  we  landed,  and  now  I  found  him  with  his 
back  against  a  rock  ledge  looking  at  the  water. 
I  was  in  a  mood  when  I  had  to  wag  my 
tongue  to  some  one  and  ease  myself  of  some 
spreading  fancies.  So  I  dropped  down  beside 
him. 


110  MONTLIVET 

"Monsieur,"  I  began  by  way  of  introduction 
to  my  theme,  "are  you  indeed  a  yoeman  ?" 

He  looked  up  with  an  excess  of  solemnity. 
"No,  monsieur." 

This  was  not  the  answer  I  had  expected,  — • 
though,  in  truth,  I  had  given  the  matter  little 
thought.  "Then  you  are  a  gentleman?"  I 
asked,  deflected  from  my  intended  speech. 

He  shook  his  head.  "No,  monsieur,  no  gen 
tleman." 

I  did  not  like  his  hidden  play  with  words, 
although  I  understood  it.  'That  is  a  farce!"  I 
said  unkindly.  "  It  is  folly  to  say  that  in  your 
Colonies  you  will  have  no  caste.  You  cannot 
change  nature.  Can  you  make  a  camel  of  a  mar 
moset  ?  I  asked  you  what  you  were  born  ?" 

He  smiled.  "I  was  born  an  English  subject. 
Monsieur,  I  have  answered  three  questions.  You 
owe  me  three  in  turn.  Did  you  ever  know 
Robert  Cavelier?" 

I  stared.     "  The  Seigneur  de  la  Salle  ?  " 

"The  same." 

I  stared  again.  "He  has  been  dead  for  eight 
years.  What  do  you,  an  Englishman,  know  of 
him?" 

He  gave  a  wave  of  the  hand.  "It  was  my 
question,"  he  reminded.  "I  asked  if  you  knew 
him." 

I  could  not  but  be  amused.     How  he  liked 


WESTWARD  111 

to  play  at  mystery!  I  would  copy  his  brevity. 
"Yes,"  I  replied. 

He  looked  up  with  much  interest.  "So  you 
knew  him.  Tell  me,  monsieur,  was  he  mounte 
bank  and  freebooter,  or  a  gallant  gentleman 
much  maligned?" 

I  removed  my  hat.  "He  was  neither.  He 
was  an  ambition  incarnate;  an  ambition  so  vast 
there  were  few  to  understand  it,  for  it  had  no 
personal  side.  You  said  the  other  night  that 
but  few  motives  rule  men.  La  Salle  has  been 
misunderstood  because  the  usual  motives — greed, 
the  love  of  woman,  and  the  desire  for  fame  —  did 
not  touch  him.  He  was  the  slave  of  one  great 
idea,  and  so  he  was  lonely  and  men  feared  him." 
I  finished  with  some  defiance.  I  knew  that  the 
blood  had  risen  in  my  cheeks  as  I  spoke,  for 
some  subjects  touch  me  as  if  I  were  a  woman. 
The  Englishman  was  watching  me,  and  I  dis 
liked  to  have  him  see  what  I  felt  was  weakness. 
But  he  did  not  scoff.  His  own  cheeks  flushed 
somewhat,  and  he  looked  off  at  the  water. 

"La  Salle  had  more  than  a  great  idea,"  he 
said  meditatively.  "He  had  great  opportunity. 
He  desired  to  found  an  empire  in  the  west,  did 
he  not,  monsieur?  Well,  he  failed,  but,  per 
haps,  that  was  accident.  He  might  have  suc 
ceeded.  It  is  not  often  in  the  history  of  the 
world  that  such  an  opportunity  comes  to  any 


MONTLIVET 

person,  man  or  woman.  La  Salle,  at  least, 
tried  to  live  up  to  his  full  stature.  Monsieur, 
how  pitiable  it  would  be,  yes,  more,  how  ter 
rible  it  would  be,  to  have  such  an  opportunity 
thrown  in  your  way  and  know  that  you  were 
too  weak  to  seize  it." 

His  voice  rose  to  some  earnestness,  but  I  was 
ashamed  of  my  own  emotion,  and  so  threw 
pebbles  at  the  water  and  kept  my  mood  cold. 
I  suspected  that  through  all  this  random  philo 
sophizing  I  was  being  probed,  —  probed  by  an 
Englishman  who  ate  my  rations,  and  wore  a 
squaw's  dress.  I  grew  angry. 

"Who  are  you?  '  I  demanded  roughly. 
"Who  are  you,  that  you  know  of  La  Salle  and 
of  his  plans,  and  use  the  French  speech.  Can 
you,  for  once,  answer  me  fairly,  or  is  there  no 
sound  core  of  honesty  in  you?" 

He  rose.  But  he  replied,  not  to  what  I  had 
said,  but  to  what  I  had  thought.  "It  is  true 
that  I  share  your  food  and  your  escort,  and 
that  I  requite  you  but  poorly.  Yet  I  must  re 
mind  you  again,  I  share  it  under  compulsion. 
I  cannot  be  entirely  open  with  you,  —  are  you 
open  with  me  ?  —  but  I  will  tell  you  all  that  it 
is  necessary  for  you  to  know,  all  that  touches 
you  in  any  way.  I  said  that  I  was  a  colonist. 
It  was  the  truth,  but  I  had  been  but  a  year  in 
the  Colonies  at  the  time  of  my  capture.  I  was 


WESTWARD  113 

born  in  England,  and  I  have  passed  some  time 
in  France.  As  to  La  Salle,  I  know  nothing 
of  him  save  what  any  man  might  hear.  Is  it 
strange  that  I  should  be  interested  in  him  now 
that  I  find  myself  following  in  his  steps  ?  Why 
do  you  always  see  a  double  meaning  in  my 
words,  monsieur?" 

I  filled  my  pipe,  and  answered  truthfully,  "I 
do  not  know." 

But  here  he  began  to  laugh.  "Monsieur, 
forgive  me,  but  truly  I  forget  at  times  that  I  am 
a  spy,  that  you  distrust  me.  You  are  kind  and 
I  am  interested,  and  so  I  grow  careless  of  the 
fact  that  I  am  in  a  land  where  no  speech  is  idle, 
where  every  glance  is  weighed.  This  life  must 
unfit  one  for  court  talk,  monsieur." 

What  was  he  after  ?  I  eyed  him  over  my  pipe 
bowl,  but  said  nothing.  I  was  minded  to  tell 
him  to  clean  the  whitefish  for  our  supper,  but 
reflected  in  time  that  he  would  undoubtedly  do 
it  badly,  so  I  spoke  to  Francois  instead.  But 
when  I  would  have  gone  away  the  Englishman 
followed.  He  clapped  me  lightly  on  the  shoulder, 
a  familiarity  he  had  not  ventured  before,  and  he 
put  his  head  on  one  side  with  a  little  bantam 
swagger. 

"If  I  am  an  enemy,  I  am  an  enemy,"  he 
bowed.  "Yet  one  question,  please,  and  I  swear 
in  the  name  of  our  joint  father  Noah  that  I  ask 


114  MONTLIVET 

it  with  the  fairest  motives  in  mind.  Tell  me 
something  of  what  we  are  going  to  do.  Is  to 
day  a  sample?" 

I  could  not  hold  my  ill-temper.  He  must  have 
led  a  psalm-singing  youth  that  every  attempt  at 
rakishness  should  make  him  as  piquant  as  a  fig 
ure  at  a  masque. 

"Yes,"  I  replied.  "To-day  is  a  sample  except 
that  we  have  been  indolent  this  afternoon.  1 
made  this  a  semi-holiday  as  a  sop  to  the  men  for 
the  added  burden  I  have  laid  on  them.  I  wish 
to  do  some  exploring  along  the  coast  here,  and 
we  shall  have  to  spend  some  time  hunting.  If 
you  show  yourself  capable  I  shall  leave  you  in 
charge  of  the  camp  while  we  are  away." 

This  time  he  bowed  gravely.  "Thank  you, 
monsieur.  I  have  not  been  blind  to  the  way 
you  have  spared  me  hardship,  but  when  I  said 
that  I  would  do  whatever  you  would  teach  me, 
I  meant  it.  I  think  that  I  shall  make  a  good 
woodsman  in  time." 

But  I  laughed.  'You  wash  yourself  too 
much  ever  to  make  a  good  woodsman,"  I  told 
him,  and  I  set  him  to  measuring  the  meal  for 
our  supper,  for  indeed  his  hands  were  well  kept, 
and  it  was  pleasant  to  see  him  handle  the  food. 


CHAPTER   X 

I    WAKE    A    SLEEPER 

WHAT  enchantment  came  upon  the  weather  for 
the  next  week  I  do  not  know.  May  is  often  some 
what  sour  of  visage,  but  now  she  smiled  from 
dawn  till  starlight.  We  paddled  and  hunted 
and  slept,  well  fed  and  fire- warmed.  It  was 
more  like  junketing  than  business,  and  we  were 
as  amiable  as  fat-bellied  puppies.  Even  the 
Englishman  looked  content.  We  left  him  in 
camp  when  we  went  to  hunt,  and  on  our  re 
turn  he  had  a  boiling  pot  and  hot  coals  ready 
for  our  venison.  I  saw  that  he  had  won  favor 
with  the  men.  Yet  he  kept  aloof  from  all  of  us, 
as  he  had  promised. 

This  had  gone  on  for  a  week,  when  one  day, 
after  we  had  placed  the  Englishman  on  guard 
and  were  tramping  back  into  the  timber  to  see 
what  our  eyes  and  muskets  could  find,  Pierre 
pointed  to  a  bent  tree.  "It  looks  like  a  cow's 
back,"  he  ruminated.  'Trees  are  queer.  To 
day,  where  we  made  camp,  I  saw  a  tree  that 
looked  like  a  Huron  with  his  topknot." 

I  stopped.     "Where?" 

"  I  told  the  master.     Near  the  camp." 


116  MONTLIVET 

"You  think  it  was  a  tree?" 

Pierre  shuffled.  "There  are  no  Hurons  here. 
This  is  the  Pottawatamie  country.  But  I  have 
thought  about  it  all  day.  It  was  a  queer  tree. 
Shall  I  go  back  and  see?" 

I  shook  my  head.  I  pointed  to  a  stale  bear 
print,  and  set  the  men  upon  it.  Then  I  turned 
and  slipped  back  to  camp. 

I  walked  with  uneasiness  in  my  throat.  Why 
did  a  Huron  dog  us  in  this  fashion  ?  Was  he 
alone  ?  Did  he  mean  mischief  to  the  English 
man  ?  Was  the  Englishman  in  league  with  him  ? 
Too  many  questions  for  a  slow  man.  I  felt  en 
trapped  and  befogged.  I  must  see  for  myself. 
And  so  I  crept  to  the  camp  to  spy  upon  it. 

I  have  never  seen  sweeter  spot  for  an  anchor 
age  than  we  had  found  that  day.  We  had  not 
camped  on  the  open  coast  as  had  been  our  cus 
tom,  but  in  a  sun-warmed  meadow  a  few  paces 
inland,  where  there  were  birds,  and  tasseling 
grasses,  and  all  kinds  of  glancing  lights  and 
odors  to  steal  into  a  man's  blood.  I  parted 
the  trees.  The  blur  of  gray  ashes  from  our  fire 
was  undisturbed;  our  canoes  lay,  bottom  up 
wards,  waiting  to  have  the  seams  newly  pitched, 
and  the  cargo  was  piled,  untouched,  against  a 
tree.  All  was  as  we  left  it.  And  there,  in  the 
shade  of  a  maple,  lay  the  Englishman,  asleep 
on  his  scarlet  blanket. 


I  WAKE  A  SLEEPER  117 

I  went  softly,  and  looked  down  at  him.  I 
ought  to  have  waked  him,  and  rated  him  for 
sleeping  at  his  post,  but  I  could  not.  It  was 
balm  to  find  him  here  safe.  He  was  twisted  like 
a  kitten  with  his  head  in  his  arm,  and  I  noticed 
that  his  dark  hair,  which  he  kept  roughly  cut, 
was  curly.  He  must  have  been  wandering  in 
the  woods,  for  he  had  a  bunch  of  pink  blossoms, 
very  waxy  and  odorous,  shut  tight  in  his  hand. 
I  looked  at  him  till  I  suddenly  wanted  him  to 
wake  and  look  at  me.  I  picked  a  grass  stalk, 
and,  leaning  over,  brushed  it  against  his  lips. 

He  woke  as  a  child  does,  not  alert  at  once, 
but  with  drowsy  stirrings,  and  finally  with  open 
eyes  so  sleep-filled  that  they  were  as  expression 
less  as  a  fawn's.  He  stared  as  if  trying  to  remem 
ber  who  I  was. 

I  sat  beside  him.  "I  am  the  owner  of  that 
cargo  you  are  guarding,"  I  supplied  to  aid  his 
memory,  and  then  laughed  to  see  the  red  flood 
his  face  when  he  came  to  himself  and  realized 
what  he  had  done.  But  I  was  not  at  ease. 
He  had  shivered  and  drawn  back  when  he 
first  opened  his  eyes.  Could  he  be  afraid  of 
me  ?  I  should  not  wish  that.  I  tried  to  be 
crafty. 

"Who  did  you  think  I  was  when  you  first 
woke  ? "  I  asked,  taking  my  pipe  and  preparing 
to  be  comfortable. 


118  MONTLIVET 

He  pushed  back  his  hair.  "Benjamin,"  he 
answered  vaguely.  He  was  still  half  asleep. 

"But  you  told  me  your  name  was  Benjamin!" 
I  put  down  my  flint  and  tinder. 

He  met  my  look.  "I  have  a  cousin  Benja 
min,  as  well,"  he  rejoined.  "I  was  dreaming  of 
him.  Monsieur,  I  am  humiliated  to  think  that 
I  went  to  sleep.  I  have  never  done  so  before." 

My  pipe  drew  well,  and  I  did  not  feel  like 
chiding.  "It  does  not  matter,"  I  said,  with  a 
yawn.  "You  must  not  take  it  amiss,  monsieur, 
if  I  confess  that,  as  a  guard,  I  have  never  con 
sidered  you  much  more  seriously  than  I  would 
that  brown  thrush  above  you.  What  is  your 
posy?"  and  I  leaned  over  and  took  the  flowers 
from  his  hand. 

He  smiled  at  me  drowsily.  "The  arbutus," 
he  explained,  with  a  lingering  touch  of  his  finger 
upon  the  blossoms.  "  Smell  them,  monsieur.  I 
found  them  in  Connecticut  last  spring.  Are 
they  not  well  suited  to  be  the  first  flowers  of 
this  wild  land  ?  Repellent  without,  —  see  how 
rough  the  leaves  are  to  your  finger,  —  but  fra 
grant  and  beautiful  under  its  harsh  coating. 
Life  in  the  Colonies  grew  to  seem  to  me  much 
the  same." 

I  turned  the  flowers  over,  and  considered  his 
philosophy.  "You  are  less  cynical  than  your 
wont,  monsieur,"  I  reflected.  "May  I  say  that 


I  WAKE  A  SLEEPER  119 

I  like  it  better  in  you  ?  Cynicism  is  a  court 
exotic.  It  should  not  grow  under  these  pines." 

He  put  out  his  hand  to  brush  a  twig  from  my 
doublet.  "Cynicism  is  often  the  flower  of  bit 
terness.  Monsieur,  you  have  been  very  good  to 
me.  I  cannot  keep  in  mind  my  constant  bitter 
ness  against  life  when  I  think  of  the  thoughtful- 
ness  and  justice  you  have  shown  me." 

I  jerked  away.  "Sufficient!  Sufficient!  Let 
us  be  comfortable,"  I  expostulated,  and  I  turned 
my  back,  and  gave  myself  to  my  pipe  and  si 
lence. 

The  birds  sang  softly  as  if  wearied,  and  the 
earth  was  warm  to  the  hand.  I  held  the  flowers 
in  my  fingers,  and  they  smelled,  somehow,  like 
the  roses  on  our  terrace  at  home  on  moonlight 
evenings  when  I  had  been  young  and  thought 
myself  in  love.  I  watched  a  drift  of  white  but 
terflies  hang  over  an  opening  red  blossom.  Such 
moments  pay  for  hours  of  famine.  It  disturbed 
me  to  have  the  Englishman  rise  and  go  away. 

"Why  do  you  go?"  I  demanded. 

He  came  back  at  once.  "What  can  I  do  for 
you,  monsieur  ?  " 

His  gentleness  shamed  my  shortness  of  speech. 
"It  was  nothing,"  I  replied.  "The  truth  is,  it 
was  pleasant  to  have  you  here  beside  me."  I 
laughed  at  my  own  folly.  "  Starling,  I  will  put 
you  in  man's  dress  to-morrow!"  I  cried. 


120  MONTLIVET 

He  turned  away.  "As  you  like,  monsieur. 
I  think  myself  it  would  be  best.  Will  you  get 
out  the  clothes  to-night?" 

But  I  stared  at  him.  "Why  blush  about  it, 
Starling?"  I  shrugged.  I  felt  some  disdain  of 
his  sensitiveness.  "I  did  not  mean  to  twit  you. 
I  understand  that  you  have  worn  the  squaw's 
dress  to  help  us.  But  I  think  that  the  necessity 
for  disguise  is  past.  I  see  the  skirts  embarrass 
you." 

He  turned  to  look  at  me  fairly.  "I  am  not 
blushing,  monsieur,"  he  explained,  with  a  great 
air  of  candor.  "It  is  the  heat  of  the  afternoon;" 
but  even  as  he  spoke  the  red  flowed  from  chin 
to  forehead,  and  when  I  looked  at  him  with  an 
other  laugh,  his  eyes  fell  before  mine. 

I  rose  on  my  elbow.  "Starling!  Starling!"  I 
cried.  He  made  no  sound.  His  head  drooped, 
and  I  saw  him  clench  his  hand.  I  stared.  He 
threw  his  head  back,  but  when  he  tried  to  meet 
my  look  he  failed.  Yet  I  looked  again.  "My 
God!"  I  heard  my  voice  say,  and  my  teeth  bit 
into  my  lip.  I  could  smell  the  flowers  in  my 
hand,  but  they  seemed  a  long  distance  away. 
"My  God!"  I  cried  again,  and  I  rose  and  felt  my 
way  into  the  woods  with  the  step  of  a  blind  man. 


CHAPTER   XI 

MARY   STARLING 

I  DO  not  know  how  long  I  walked,  nor  where, 
but  the  sun  dropped  some  space.  When  I  re 
turned  to  the  camp,  I  found  the  men  before 
me.  They  had  returned  early,  empty-handed, 
and  were  in  an  ill  humor  because  the  English 
man  was  away,  and  there  was  nothing  done.  I 
commanded  Pierre  to  build  a  larger  fire  than 
usual,  and  keep  it  piled  high  till  I  returned. 
Then  I  began  a  search  for  footprints. 

They  were  easily  found.  The  young  grass 
crushed  at  a  touch,  and  it  was  child's  work 
to  pick  out  the  moccasin  track  across  the 
meadow.  When  the  steps  reached  the  beach 
they  were  harder  to  follow.  I  lost  them  for  a 
while,  though  there  were  scattered  pebbles  that 
would  have  led  me  straight  as  a  homing  pigeon, 
had  I  been  cool  enough  in  mind  to  have  my  eyes 
and  wits  as  sharp  as  usual.  As  it  was,  I  doubled, 
and  squandered  time,  until  the  sun  began  to 
loom  red  near  the  horizon.  And  all  the  time  I 
was  saying  to  myself,  "It  is  not  true.  It  is  not 
true." 

The  windings  of  the  track  puzzled  me.     It 


122  MONTLIVET 

would  go  straight  into  the  forest  for  a  space,  then 
double  sharply,  and  come  back  to  the  beach. 
It  came  to  me  at  last  that  the  wish  to  hide  pulled 
the  steps  into  the  timber,  and  that  the  fear  and 
solitude  of  the  great  woods  speedily  drove  them 
out  again.  Then  I  determined  to  pay  no  atten 
tion  to  these  detours,  but  push  along  the  beach. 
And  doing  this,  I  speedily  came  upon  the  red 
blanket  flung  down  in  the  shelter  of  a  rock,  and 
its  owner  resting  upon  it. 

When  I  saw  that  all  was  well,  I  became  sud 
denly  exhausted,  and  went  forward  slowly.  I 
reached  the  red  blanket,  and  looked  down.  Yes, 
all  was  well.  A  hunting  knife  lay  in  an  open 
bundle.  I  stooped  and  seized  it,  and  hurled 
it  far  into  the  water,  and  then  I  asked,  rather 
huskily,  a  question  that  had  not  been  in  my 
mind  at  all:- 

"What  is  your  name?" 

"Mary  Starling."  The  woman  had  risen, 
and  stood  with  her  hands  pressed  tight  against 
her  throat ;  the  look  she  gave  me  was  the  saddest 
I  had  ever  seen.  "  Monsieur,  you  wrong  me. 
The  knife  that  you  threw  away  was  for  my  pro 
tection,  —  for  my  food." 

I  stood  over  her.  "You  swear  this?"  I  said, 
breathing  hard. 

She  held  her  head  high.  "Monsieur,  I  am 
a  coward  in  many  ways,  but  not  in  this.  Life  is 


MARY  STARLING  123 

bitter,  but  I  will  live  it  as  long  as  the  Powers 
please.  I  will  take  what  comes.  Even  among 
the  Indians  I  was  not  tempted  to  —  to  that." 

''You  would  have  died.  Starved  here  in  the 
wilderness,  if  I  had  not  found  you." 

"  Perhaps,  monsieur.  Yet  I  gave  myself  what 
chance  I  could.  I  took  some  food,  a  fishing 
line,  and  that  knife." 

"Why  did  you  leave  me?" 

"Monsieur!" 

"I  say,  why  did  you  leave  me?" 

"  Monsieur,  what  else  could  I  do  ?  I  would 
have  discredited  you.  Those  were  your  words. 
'A  woman  would  discredit  our  canoes." 

"Yet  you  were  — you  were  a  woman  all  the 
time." 

"Not  in  your  eyes,  monsieur." 

I  gripped  her  hand.  "Did  the  Indians  sus 
pect?" 

"  Never  for  a  moment." 

"Yet  when  they  captured  you"  — 

"I  was  in  man's  dress.  I  -  -  I  was  trying  to 
defend  the  blockhouse.  The  men  had  —  had 
-had"- 

I  seized  her  in  my  arm,  and  made  her  drink 
from  my  brandy  flask.  In  a  moment  the  color 
came  back  to  her  lips,  and  she  drew  away. 

"I  have  never  done  this  before,"  she  explained 
unsteadily.  "Never  since  my  capture.  I  sup- 


124  MONTLIVET 

pose  it  is  because  —  because  you  know.  And 
so  I  cannot  play  the  man.  Monsieur,  believe  me. 
I  would  never  have  come  with  you,  never,  if  I 
had  not  felt  sure  of  myself.  Sure  that  I  could 
play  my  part,  and  that  you  would  not  know.  I  — 
I  —  tried,  a  little,  to  make  you  understand  there 
at  the  commandant's,  and  when  I  saw  that  you 
were  really  blind  I  thought  that  I  was  safe.  Be 
lieve  me,  monsieur." 

I  handed  her  my  flask.  "Drink  more,"  I 
commanded.  I  took  the  blanket  and  wrapped 
it  around  her  though  the  air  was  still  warm. 
"You  must  not  let  yourself  have  chills  in  this 
fashion  if  you  would  save  your  strength.  Ma 
dame,  I  believe  nothing  about  you  that  is  not 
brave  and  admirable.  Are  you  Madame  Star 
ling,  and  is  Benjamin  your  husband  that  you 
took  his  name  to  shield  you,  and  even  repeated 
the  name  in  your  dreams?" 

She  looked  at  me,  and  I  felt  rebuked  for 
something  that  had  been  in  my  tone.  "I  am 
unmarried,"  she  said  steadily.  "Benjamin  Star 
ling  is  a  cousin.  Monsieur,  there  is  nothing  left 
either  of  us  but  to  let  me  go.  Oh,  if  I  could  live 
this  day  over  and  be  more  careful!  How  was 
it,  how  was  it  that  I  let  you  know  ?" 

I  walked  away.  A  frightened  mink  ran  across 
my  feet,  and  I  cursed  at  it.  Then  I  walked 
back. 


MARY  STARLING  125 

"You  did  not  let  me  know,"  I  said,  and  I 
stooped  to  pick  up  her  bundle.  "I  know  no 
thing.  I  was  always  the  blindest  of  men.  Come, 
Monsieur  Starling,  let  us  go  back  to  camp." 

Again  she  put  her  hands  to  her  throat.  'You 
mean  that?" 

I  took  the  bundle  in  my  arm.  "  It  is  the  only 
way.  Come,  monsieur." 

"I  cannot." 

"I  think  that  you  must." 

"And  can  we  go  on  as  before?" 

I  shrugged  my  shoulders.  "We  can  try. 
Come,  Monsieur  Starling,  the  men  are  growling, 
for  you  should  have  made  the  fire.  Remember, 
you  strayed  into  the  woods  and  lost  your  way. 
Come,  come,  you  must  do  your  part." 

She  looked  at  me,  and  a  sudden  dry  sob 
shook  her.  "Forgive  me,  monsieur!"  she  cried. 
"Yes,  I  will  come."  She  tried  to  square  her 
shoulders.  "I  must  get  my  spirit  back  before 
I  can  meet  the  men  in  camp.  Why  am  I  such 
a  coward!" 

I  dropped  the  bundle  that  I  might  take  both 
her  hands.  "Mademoiselle,"  I  said,  "look  at 
me.  We  are  puppets  in  this  matter.  You  have 
been  thrown  into  my  hands  against  my  will  and 
your  own,  and  I  swrear  to  you  that  I  will  deal 
with  you  as  fairly  as  I  have  strength.  But  you 
must  play  your  part.  So  long  as  I  treat  you  as 


126  MONTLIVET 

a  woman  you  will  be  a  coward.  Therefore  I 
must  be  harsh  with  you.  You  have  great  will 
and  can  endure  loneliness  of  soul.  I  must  thrust 
you  back  upon  yourself.  There  must  be  no 
woman  in  the  camp.  Come,  monsieur,  let  us 
not  talk  of  this  longer.  Are  you  ready  ?"  And 
not  waiting  for  assent,  I  led  the  way  back  to 
camp  without  word  or  look;  I  even  kept  myself 
from  putting  out  a  helping  hand  when  I  heard 
the  steps  behind  me  falter  and  almost  fall. 

As  we  came  to  the  fire  and  met  the  men.  I 
found  myself  fingering  my  sword.  But  it  was 
a  useless  motion.  The  oafs  saw  nothing  amiss, 
though  to  me  the  very  air  was  shouting  the  secret. 
We  had  a  fat  larder,  broiled  whitefish  and  bear- 
steak  from  the  kill  of  the  day  before,  and  the 
men  were  thinking  much  of  their  stomachs  and 
not  at  all  of  the  Englishman,  save  when  they 
turned  their  backs  upon  him  to  show  that  he 
was  out  of  favor.  So  we  sat  down  to  meat.  We 
sat  a  long  time,  while  the  twilight  faded  and 
the  stars  pricked  out  clear,  and  there  was  little 
talk  between  us.  I  was  sitting  at  meat  with 
a  woman,  a  woman  of  my  own  class,  and  I 
dared  not  offer  her  even  the  courtesy  that  one 
may  show  a  serving  maid.  Well,  I  would  take 
what  each  day  might  bring  and  not  look  ahead. 
I  would  think  nothing  about  this  person,  as 
man  or  woman,  but  would  fill  my  thought  with 


MARY  STARLING  127 

the  purpose  that  had  brought  me  to  the  beaver 
lands.  I  told  the  men  to  be  early  astir  that  we 
might  make  a  longer  day  of  travel  on  the  mor 
row. 

The  morrow  was  gray.  The  wind  was  in  the 
east,  and  the  sunrise  watery  and  streaked  with 
slate-colored  bands.  The  water  was  clammy  and 
opaque,  repellent  to  touch  and  sight.  The  way 
looked  dreary,  and  the  woman  carried  her  head 
high,  as  if  in  challenge  to  her  courage.  She  had 
risen  early,  and  had  gone  through  her  trifling 
share  in  the  preparations,  and  though  she  had 
avoided  me,  I  could  see  that  she  was  ready  to 
play  her  part. 

We  paddled  on  our  knees  that  morning,  for  the 
waves  were  choppy.  By  ten  o'clock  the  bands 
of  cloud  had  merged  into  a  dun  canopy,  and  by 
noon  a  slow,  cold  rain  was  drizzling.  I  dreaded 
a  halt,  but  the  necessity  pressed.  I  selected  a 
small  cove,  well  tree-grown,  and  we  turned  our 
canoes  inland. 

Fortunately  the  rain,  though  persistent,  had 
been  gentle,  and  had  not  penetrated  far  under 
the  heavy  foliaged  pines.  We  selected  a  clump 
of  large  trees,  chopped  the  lower  branches,  and 
scraping  away  the  surface  layer  of  moss  and 
needles  found  dry  ground.  Here  we  piled  the 
cargo  in  two  mounds,  which  we  hooded  with 
tarpaulins  and  with  our  overturned  canoes. 


128  MONTLIVET 

Our  provisions  were  snug  enough;  it  was  our 
selves  who  were  in  dreary  estate. 

It  rained  all  the  afternoon,  stopped  for  a  half 
hour  at  sunset,  when  the  sky,  for  a  few  moments, 
showed  streaks  of  red,  then  closed  in  for  a  night's 
drizzle.  I  had  built  what  shelter  I  could  for 
the  woman  out  of  boughs  covered  with  sheets 
of  paper  birch  and  elm.  I  had  made  a  similar 
shelter  for  myself  that  I  might  not  seem  to  dis 
criminate  too  much  in  favor  of  the  Englishman, 
and  had  told  the  men  to  do  the  same.  But  they 
were  indolent,  and  stopped  at  chopping  a  few 
hemlock  boughs,  which  they  laid  across  crotched 
aspens.  In  truth,  our  shelters  accomplished  little 
against  the  cold  and  wet.  Do  what  we  could,  we 
had  great  discomfort,  and  morning  found  the  rain 
still  dripping  and  the  sky  still  unbroken  gray. 

And  so  it  went  for  three  days.  The  north 
country  has  such  storms  in  the  spring,  and  they 
chill  all  beauty  out  of  the  woods.  We  could 
do  nothing.  We  kept  what  fire  we  could,  re- 
gummed  the  seams  of  the  canoes,  and  for  the 
rest  ate,  sulked,  and  tried  to  sleep.  The  men 
gambled  among  themselves,  and  I  grew  weary 
of  the  click,  click  of  their  balls  and  the  sound 
of  their  stupid  boasts  and  low  jesting.  Yet  I 
had  no  ground  for  stopping  them,  for  the  wo 
man  understood  almost  nothing  of  their  uncouth 
speech.  Indeed,  she  was  little  in  sight  or  hear- 


MARY  STARLING  129 

ing.  She  stayed  in  her  bark  shelter,  and  I  could 
hear  her  moving  about,  trying  to  keep  it  neat 
and  herself  in  order.  In  those  three  days  I 
learned  one  secret  of  her  spirit.  She  had  a 
natural  merriment  that  did  not  seem  a  matter 
of  will  power  nor  even  of  wish.  It  was  an  in 
stinctive,  inborn  content,  that  was  perhaps  partly 
physical,  in  that  it  enabled  her  to  sleep  well,  and 
so  to  wake  with  zest  and  courage.  By  night 
her  eyes  might  be  dark  circled  and  her  step 
slow,  but  each  morning  there  was  interest  in 
her  looks  to  see  what  the  strange  day  was  about 
to  bring.  I  had  seen  this  nature  in  men  many 
times ;  I  had  not  thought  that  it  belonged  to  wo 
men  who  are  framed  to  follow  rather  than  to  look 
ahead. 

For  twenty-four  hours  we  held  little  more  in 
tercourse  than  dumb  people,  but  the  second  day 
she  came  to  me. 

"Monsieur,  would  you  teach  me?"  she  asked. 
"Would  you  explain  to  me  about  the  Indian 
dialects  ?  " 

I  agreed.  I  threw  her  a  blanket,  which  she 
wrapped  around  her,  and  we  cowered  close  to 
the  bole  of  a  pine.  I  took  birch  bark  and 
a  crayon  and  turned  schoolmaster,  explaining 
that  the  Huron  and  Iroquois  nations  came  of 
the  same  stock,  but  that  most  of  the  western 
tribes  were  Algonquin  in  blood,  and  that,  though 


130  MONTLIVET 

they  had  tribal  differences  in  speech,  Algonquin 
was  the  basic  language,  as  Latin  is  the  root  of  all 
our  tongues  at  home.  I  took  the  damp  bark,  and 
wrote  some  phrases  of  Algonquin,  showing  her 
the  syntax  as  well  as  I  had  been  able  to  reduce 
it  to  rule  myself.  She  had  a  quick  ear  and  the 
power  of  attention,  but  after  an  hour  of  it  I  tore 
the  bark  in  pieces. 

"We  will  not  try  this  again,"  I  told  her 
roughly,  and  we  scarcely  met  or  spoke  for  the 
next  day. 

The  fourth  morning  came  without  rain,  and 
the  sun  struggled  out.  We  built  great  fires, 
dried  our  clothing,  repacked  the  canoes,  and 
were  afloat  by  noon.  By  contrast  it  was  plea 
sant,  but  it  still  was  cold,  and  we  stood  to  our 
paddling.  I  wrapped  the  woman  in  extra 
blankets,  and  made  her  swallow  some  brandy. 
I  hoped  that  she  would  sleep,  but  she  did  not, 
for  it  was  she  who  called  to  us  that  there  were 
three  canoes  ahead. 

It  showed  how  clogged  I  was  by  sombre 
thought  that  I  had  not  seen  them,  for  in  a 
moment  they  swept  in  full  sight.  I  crowded 
the  woman  down  in  the  canoe,  and  covered  her 
with  sailcloth.  Then  I  hailed  the  canoes  with 
a  long  cry,  "Tanipi  endayenk?"  which  means, 
"Whence  come  you?"  and  added  "Peca,"  that 
they  might  know  I  called  in  peace. 


MARY  STARLING  131 

The  canoes  wheeled  and  soon  hung  like  wa 
ter  birds  at  our  side.  They  were  filled  with  a 
hunting  party  of  Pottawatamies,  and  the  young 
braves  grunted  and  chaffered  at  me  in  high  good 
humor.  I  gave  them  knives  and  vermilion,  and 
they  talked  freely.  I  saw  them  look  at  the 
draped  shape  in  the  canoe,  but  I  shrugged  my 
shoulders  and  said,  "Ouskouebi!"  which  might 
mean  either  "drunken"  or  a  "fool,"  and  they 
grinned  and  seemed  satisfied.  They  promised 
to  report  to  me  at  La  Baye  des  Puants,  and  I 
saw  by  their  complaisance  that  the  French  star 
was  at  the  zenith.  I  should  have  stretched  my 
legs  in  comfort  as  I  went  on  my  way. 


CHAPTER   XII 

A    COMPACT 

WE  paddled  that  afternoon  till  the  men  splashed 
water  into  the  canoes,  which  was  their  way  of  tel 
ling  me  that  I  had  worked  them  hard  enough.  It 
was  dusk  when  we  landed,  and  starlight  be 
fore  our  kettles  were  hot.  I  had  been  silent, 
when  I  had  not  been  fault  finding,  till,  supper 
over,  the  woman,  leaning  across  the  fire,  asked 
me  why. 

"  Is  something  wrong  ?  "  she  ventured.  "  Ever 
since  we  met  the  Pottawatamies  you  have 
seemed  in  haste." 

I  looked  around.  The  men  were  at  a  dis 
tance  preparing  for  sleep.  "I  wish  to  reach  the 
Pottawatamie  Islands  before  to-morrow  night. 
Mademoiselle  Starling,  may  I  talk  of  our  future  ?  " 

She  rose.     :' You  called  me  mademoiselle." 

'Yes,  mademoiselle." 

"And  you  mean" 

I  took  off  my  hat.  "Will  you  come  with 
me?"  I  asked,  — -"come  where  we  shall  not  be 
overheard  ?  We  must  talk  of  our  future." 

I  knew  that  she  trembled  as  she  bowed  her 
assent,  but  I  pretended  to  be  blind.  I  led  the 


A   COMPACT  133 

way  outside  of  the  circle  of  light,  then  waited 
for  her  to  come  to  me.  I  stood  with  my  hat 
in  hand,  and  my  heart  cried  in  pity  for  the 
woman,  but  my  tongue  was  heavy  as  a  sav 
age's. 

"I  learned  from  the  Pottawatamies,"  I  said, 
"that  Father  Nouvel  is  tarrying  at  their  islands. 
If  we  haste,  we  may  find  him  there.  Mademoi 
selle,  will  you  marry  me?" 

I  do  not  know  that  I  was  cool  enough  to 
measure  rightly  the  space  of  the  silence  that 
ensued,  but  it  seemed  a  long  one.  The  woman 
stood  very  still.  A  star  fell  slanting  from  the 
mid-sky,  and  I  watched  it  slip  behind  the  ho 
rizon.  The  woman's  head  was  high,  and  I 
knew  that  she  was  thinking.  It  troubled  me 
that  she  could  think  at  such  a  time. 

"Mademoiselle"    -  I  began. 

"Wait!"  she  interrupted.  She  raised  her 
hand,  and  her  fingers  looked  carven  white  in 
the  moonlight,  though  by  daylight  they  were 
brown.  "Monsieur,  you  watched  the  star.  It 
went  into  the  unknown,  —  a  way  so  wide  and 
terrible  that  we  may  not  follow  it  even  in  thought. 
We  live  alone  with  majestic  forces,  —  forests 
greater  than  an  empire,  unmapped  waters,  and 
strange,  savage  men.  We  are  pygmies;  yet,  if 
we  have  spirit  we  can  grow  into  some  measure 
of  the  greatness  and  inflexibility  around  us. 


134  MONTLIVET 

Monsieur,  when  you  asked  me  —  what  you 
asked  me  now  —  you  were  thinking  of  France 
and  its  standards.  Of  little,  tidy,  hedged-in 
France.  You  were  not—  Oh,  monsieur,  I  am 
sorry  you  asked  me  that  question.  Of  course 
I  answer  '  no,'  but  —  but  I  am  sorry  that  you 
asked  it." 

I  went  to  her.  "You  are  cold.  Come  with 
me  to  the  fire.  Come.  The  men  are  asleep 
by  this  time.  Mademoiselle,  your  spirit  is  steel 
and  fire,  but  your  body  betrays  you.  You  are 
shivering  and  afraid.  Yet  —  Well,  made 
moiselle,  pygmies  or  giants,  whichever  we  may 
be,  we  must  not  scorn  counsel.  You  once  called 
us  partners.  On  that  basis,  will  you  listen  to 
me  now?" 

"But  you  must  not"  — 

"  Mademoiselle,  on  that  basis  will  you  listen  to 
me  now?" 

"Yes." 

"Then  come."  I  led  her  to  the  warmth,  and 
placed  her  snugly,  with  logs  to  pillow  her  and 
her  face  away  from  the  sleeping  men.  Then  I 
sat  beside  her.  But  my  speech  had  left  me.  I 
had  no  reasons,  no  persuasions  at  my  tongue. 

"Father  Nouvel  is  at  the  islands,"  I  said. 
"Mademoiselle,  you  must  marry  me.  You 
must." 

"Why  'must,'  monsieur?" 


A   COMPACT  135 

"  We  cannot  travel  in  this  way." 
"A  week  ago  you  thought  it  possible." 
"  I  had  not  tried  it  then.     It  will  not  do." 
"Monsieur,  what  has  gone  wrong?" 
I  took  out  my  hunting  knife  and  tried  its  edge. 
"My  mind,"  I  answered  savagely.      "Mademoi 
selle,  I  may,  as  you  say,  have  tidy,  circumscribed 
France  behind  my  thought,  but—       Well,  made 
moiselle,  I  was  brought  up  to  certain  observances 
in  regard  to  a  woman.     And  I  cannot  forget  you 
are  a  woman.     When  the  men  speak  roughly  to 
you  I  put  my  hand  on  my  sword." 
"I  have  seen  you,  monsieur." 
"And  so  I  lose  much  thought  and  time  con 
quering  my  anger.     It  fills  my  thought.     When 
I  taught  you  Indian  verbs  the  other  day  the  rain 
dripped  from  your  hair.     And  I  sat  like  a  clod. 
WThat  could  I  do  ?     I  could  not  shelter  you  for 
fear  of  rousing  suspicion  in  the  men.     Made 
moiselle,  I  cannot  stand  it.     I  must  let  the  men 
know  that  you  are  a  woman.     And  then  I  must 
marry  you  when  we  reach  Father  Nouvel." 

She  rose.  "  Monsieur,  you  must  send  me  back 
to  Montreal." 

I  kept  my  seat.  "  Mademoiselle,  I  have  your 
word,"  I  reminded.  ;'You  agreed  to  listen." 

I  had  meant  to  plead,  not  to  rebuke,  and  I 
regretted  that  she  flushed.  She  seated  herself 
lingeringly,  but  I  saw  that  she  leaned  back,  and 


136  MONTLIVET 

did  not  sit  as  she  had  done  before  with  her  mus 
cles  braced  for  flight. 

"Why  not  send  me  back  to  Montreal?"  she 
begged. 

The  embers  of  the  fire  fell  into  irregular, 
rectangular  shapes  like  the  stone  buildings  on 
the  Marne,  where  I  was  born.  My  father  had 
beggared  us,  but  those  buildings  were  left.  I 
scorned  my  father's  memory,  but  I  had  strange 
pride  in  the  name  and  place  that  had  been 
his. 

"  I  have  thought  over  this  matter  by  night  and 
day,"  I  replied  slowly.  "I  cannot  send  you  to 
Montreal,  for  I  cannot  trust  these  men.  If  I 
take  you  myself  I  shall  lose  six  weeks  out  of  the 
summer.  Then  it  will  be  too  late  to  accomplish 
anything.  No,  I  cannot  afford  so  much  time. 
The  summer  is  all  too  short  as  it  is." 

'You  would  marry  me  —  marry  me  to  get  me 
out  of  the  way --rather  than  lose  six  weeks  of 
time!" 

I  rose.  "Spare  your  scorn,  mademoiselle.  This 
is  no  joust  of  wits.  I  would  sell  everything  —  ex 
cept  the  honor  of  my  sword  --rather  than  lose 
six  weeks  of  time." 

'Then  you  have  a  mission?" 

"A  self-sent  one,  mademoiselle." 

"But  you  can  come  again  next  year.," 

"Next  year  will  be  too  late." 


A    COMPACT  137 

She  threw  out  her  hands.  "  Monsieur,  try  me. 
Let  me  travel  with  you  as  a  man.  I  will  be  a  man. 
I  will  be  Monsieur  Starling  in  truth.  Try  me 
once  more." 

I  took  her  hand.  "  Mademoiselle,  mademoi 
selle,"  I  said,  "think  a  moment.  Would  I  force 
you  to  this  marriage  —  would  I  suggest  it  even 
—  if  it  did  not  seem  a  necessity,  a  necessity  for 
my  own  ends  ?  For  I  must  have  my  head  and 
hands  clear.  It  is  a  selfish  view.  I  know  that. 
It  is  crushingly  selfish.  But  it  is  for  a  large  pur 
pose.  I  am  a  small  man  fitted  to  a  great  under 
taking,  and  I  can  permit  no  divided  interests.  I 
need  an  unhampered  mind." 

She  walked  a  few  steps.  "And  if  I  should 
travel  with  you  as  a  woman  and  yet  not  marry 
you,"  she  asked  over  her  shoulder,  "  what  then  ?" 

I  looked  away.  "I  should  be  obliged  to  fight 
every  man  of  my  company  first,  then  every  white 
man  that  we  might  meet.  It  would  hardly 
leave  me  with  an  unhampered  mind,  mademoi 
selle." 

She  made  no  comment  with  word  or  eye,  and 
going  back  to  the  place  where  we  had  been  sit 
ting,  she  dropped  upon  the  sand.  I  covered  her 
shoulders  with  the  red  blanket,  and  again  sat 
beside  her.  I  would  be  silent  till  she  chose  to 
speak.  After  a  time  I  went  back  into  the  forest 
to  search  fresh  fuel  for  our  fire. 


138  MONTLIVET 

When  I  returned  with  my  arms  laden,  she 
turned  her  face  toward  me;  her  sorrowful  eyes 
looked  as  if  she  could  never  again  know  sleep 
or  forgetfulness.  "I  am  a  coward,"  she  said, 
*'yet  I  thought  that  cowardice  and  my  desire  for 
life  had  both  died  together.  I  did  not  draw 
back  from  the  knives  of  the  Indians,  but  now  I 
am  afraid  of  a  loveless  marriage.  We  are  young. 
We  may  live  many  years.  Oh,  monsieur,  I  have 
not  the  courage!" 

I  piled  the  wood  on  the  fire  and  did  not 
answer.  I  stirred  the  red  coals  and  marked 
how  the  flames  slipped  along  the  dried  branches 
in  festoons  of  light.  Pierre  was  snoring,  and 
I  kicked  him  till  he  rolled  over  and  swore 
in  bastard  French.  Then  I  went  to  the  wo 
man. 

"You  have  won,"  I  said,  and  I  laughed  a 
little,  —  a  mean,  harsh  laugh,  my  ears  told  me, 
not  the  laugh  of  a  gentleman.  "Mademoiselle, 
you  have  won.  We  start  toward  Montreal  to 
morrow.  Then  marry  —  whom  you  will." 

She  looked  into  my  eyes.  "Wait  a  moment;  " 
she  stopped.  "  Monsieur,  how  much  time  have 
you  spent  in  learning  the  Indian  dialects  and 
preparing  for  this  expedition?" 

"Two  years." 

"And  next  year  will  indeed  be  too  late?" 

I  shrugged  my  shoulders.     "We  waste  good 


A    COMPACT  139 

hours,"  I  suggested.  "Mademoiselle,  may  I  say 
*  good-night'?" 

She  stepped  toward  me.  "Monsieur,  do  not 
spoil  your  courtesy,"  she  begged.  "I  asked  you 
a  question." 

I  smiled  at  her.  "The  answer  has  lost  pith 
and  meaning.  Yes,  mademoiselle,  next  year  will 
indeed  be  too  late." 

She  put  her  hands  before  her  eyes.  "Then  I 
will  change  my  answer.  Monsieur,  I  will  marry 
you  when  we  reach  Father  Nouvel." 

But  I  would  not  reply.  I  walked  to  the  beach 
where  there  were  dark  and  stars.  I  ground  my 
heel  into  the  pebbles,  and  I  did  not  hear  her 
moccasined  step  behind  me.  She  had  to  touch 
my  arm. 

"I  meant  it,  monsieur,"  she  whispered. 

I  raised  her  fingers,  and  laid  them  back  against 
her  side.  "Why  tempt  me?"  I  said  rudely. 
**  Happily  for  you  my  word  is  a  man's  word. 
We  start  toward  Montreal  to-morrow." 

"Monsieur,  I  beg  you.     Go  west  to-morrow." 

"No,  mademoiselle." 

"Then  —  then  —  monsieur,  I  give  you  warn 
ing.  If  we  start  toward  Montreal  to-morrow  I 
shall  escape  you  at  the  first  opportunity,  and  try 
my  fortune  alone  in  the  woods." 

'You  threaten  me?" 

She  stood  in  front  of  me.     "  I  would  bring  you 


140  MONTLIVET 

to  reason.  Yes,  I  threaten  you,  in  that  I  shall 
do  what  I  say.  Come,  monsieur,  I  will  follow 
you  westward.  Your  years  of  preparation,  your 
great  opportunity,  shall  not  be  wasted  because 
of  me." 

I  took  her  hand.  'You  are  a  strange  woman. 
A  sage  and  a  child;  a  woman  and  a  warrior. 
But  I  will  not  marry  you,  mademoiselle." 

"Why  not,  monsieur?" 

"Because  I  will  not  hoodwink  you.  So  long 
as  I  took  you  blindly  against  your  will,  I  felt 
no  shame  at  going  about  my  own  ends.  But 
now  that  you  have  turned  the  tables  on  me  and 
come  without  force,  I  cannot  let  you  be  a  tool. 
I  would  not  take  you  without  telling  you  my 
plans,  —  and  then  you  would  not  come." 

"I  know  your  plans,  monsieur." 

"You  know  that  I  hunt  beaver." 

"I  know  that  you  hunt  men.  Monsieur,  are 
all  the  women  of  your  nation  puppets,  that  you 
should  think  me  blind  ?  Listen.  You  plan  a 
coalition  of  the  western  tribes.  La  Salle's  plan 
—  with  changes.  You  hope  to  make  yourself  a 
dictator,  chief  of  a  league  of  red  men  that  shall 
control  this  western  water-way.  Is  not  this  so, 
monsieur?" 

"I —     Yes,  mademoiselle." 
'You  intend  to  form  your  league  this  summer 
and  advance  upon  the  Iroquois  in  the  autumn 


A    COMPACT  141 

before  the  ice  locks  the  lakes.  You  are  in  haste, 
for  if  you  delay  another  twelvemonth  you  are 
convinced  that  the  Iroquois  will  make  a  treaty 
with  the  Hurons  at  Michillimackinac,  massacre 
your  garrison  there,  cow  the  western  tribes,  and 
so  wrest  this  country  from  the  French.  Is  not 
this  so,  monsieur?" 

14  Yes,  mademoiselle." 

"  You  see  that  I  understand  all  this,  monsieur. 
Yet,  I  will  go  with  you." 

I  did  not  stir.  'You  are  acute.  Yet  there 
is  one  point  in  my  plan  that  you  did  not  men 
tion,"  I  said  dully. 

She  turned  away.  "I  hoped  to  spare  us 
both,"  she  returned  in  a  tone  as  lifeless  as  my 
own.  ''Yet,  if  you  wish  words,  take  them. 
Monsieur,  the  Iroquois  are  allies  of  the  English. 
Your  warfare  with  them  is  but  a  step  in  pursuit 
of  larger  game.  In  founding  an  empire  for  your 
own  land  you  would  take  one  away  from  mine. 
You  hope  in  the  end  to  crush  the  English  on 
this  continent.  Have  I  stated  you  correctly, 
monsieur?" 

I  bowed. 

She  laughed  —  a  laugh  more  bitter  than  my 
own  had  been.  "  I  am  indeed  the  plaything  of 
Fate,"  she  said  a  little  wildly.  "  But  I  will  marry 
you.  You  saved  my  life.  Yes,  more.  You 
threw  your  career  into  the  balance  for  an  un- 


142  MONTLIVET 

known  man,  your  foe.  You  jeopardized  all  that 
you  hoped  for,  and  you  never  whined  nor  lost 
sleep.  You  are  a  superb  gamester,  monsieur." 

I  smiled.  "Not  enough  of  a  gamester  to  ac 
cept  your  sacrifice,  mademoiselle." 

She  clenched  her  hands.  "I  will  marry  you," 
she  retorted.  'You  shall  follow  out  your  pur 
pose.  Though,  after  all,  you  cannot  succeed. 
Who  are  you  ?  A  dreamer,  a  soldier  of  fortune, 
a  man  without  place  or  following.  You  think 
slowly,  and  your  heart  rules  your  head.  How 
can  you  hope  to  wrest  an  empire  from --from 
us  ?  You  cannot  do  it.  You  cannot.  But  you 
shall  have  your  chance.  You  gave  me  mine 
and  you  shall  have  yours.  We  go  west.  Other 
wise —  I  have  warned  you,  monsieur." 

I  seized  her  wrist,  and  made  her  meet  my  look. 
"That  is  a  coward's  threat,"  I  said  contemptu 
ously. 

I  could  not  daunt  her.  "I  mean  it.  I  mean 
it,  monsieur,"  she  repeated  quietly. 

I  stood  and  looked  at  her.  ;'You  have  a 
man's  equity,"  I  said.  "You  are  determined 
to  give  me  my  chance.  Well,  I  will  take  it,  - 
and  remember  that  you  gave  it  to  me.  But, 
would  you  have  me  in  any  way  weaken  my  pur 
pose,  mademoiselle?" 

She  looked  up  with  a  flash  of  anger.  "Am  I  a 
child  or  an  intriguing  woman  ?  No,  no.  Do 


A    COMPACT  143 

your  best,  or  your  worst,  or  I  shall  despise  you 
for  your  weakness.  I  have  told  you  that  I  have 
scant  hopes  for  your  success,  monsieur." 

What  could  I  say?  I  stood  before  her  awk 
wardly.  "Mademoiselle,  may  I  tell  you  some 
thing  of  myself  and  my  people?  You  should 
know  what  sort  of  name  you  are  to  bear." 

But  she  pressed  her  hands  outward.  "No, 
no!"  she  cried.  "Why  tell  me?"  Then  she 
sobered.  "  I  know  that  you  are  brave  and  kind," 
she  said,  with  her  eyes  down.  "Beyond  that  — 
I  do  not  think  that  I  am  interested,  monsieur." 

I  felt  angered.  ;'You  should  be  interested,'* 
I  said  bluntly.  "Well,  the  night  is  slipping  away. 
Let  me  lead  you  to  the  fire  and  bid  you  good 
night." 

Her  finger  tips  met  mine  as  we  walked  back 
together,  but  the  touch  was  as  remote  as  the 
brushing  of  the  pine  boughs  on  my  cheek.  Yet 
when  I  would  have  handed  her  her  blanket  and 
turned  away,  she  detained  me.  "Sit  with  me 
a  little  longer,  monsieur,"  she  begged.  "I  —  I 
think  I  am  afraid  of  the  woods  to-night.  Let 
us  sit  here  a  while. " 

I  could  not  grasp  her  mood,  but  there  was 
nothing  for  me  but  to  yield  to  it.  I  made  her  as 
comfortable  as  possible,  and  saw  that  the  fire 
was  kept  alight;  then  I  sat  near  her.  I  was 
tired,  but  time  went  swiftly.  My  mind  would 


144  MONTLIVET 

not  have  given  my  body  rest,  even  had  I  lain 
down. 

In  time  the  woman  leaned  toward  me. 
"There  is  —  there  is  no  woman  who  will  suffer 
from  this?"  she  asked  slowly. 

I  stirred  the  fire.  "  I  have  no  wife,  mademoi 
selle." 

"I  did  not  mean  that.  There  is  no  woman 
who  —  who  cares  for  you  ?" 

"Not  to  my  knowledge." 

"  And  you  —  and  you,  monsieur  ?  There  is  no 
one  whom  you  are  giving  up  ? " 

I  answered  slowly.  "Mademoiselle,"  I  said, 
"  you  are  a  strangely  wise  woman.  You  know  the 
value  of  reticence,  —  something  few  women  seem 
to  know.  We  have  talked  of  many  things,  of  am 
bition,  of  justice,  of  generosity,  but  never,  never 
of  love.  Are  you  wise  to  open  the  past  in  that 
one  matter  ?  I  have  asked  you  no  questions." 

She  hid  her  face  in  her  hands.  "But  I  will 
tell  you.  I  was  betrothed  to  my  cousin,  —  to 
Benjamin  Starling.  I  would  not  marry  him 
now,  I  would  not  marry  him  now  to  save  him 
from  the  rack.  I  have  nothing  more  to  tell  you, 
monsieur." 

I  let  the  moments  slip.  The  east  was  bright 
ening,  and  in  an  hour  it  would  be  dawn.  I  knew 
we  needed  rest.  I  rose,  and,  standing  behind  the 
woman,  bent  over  her. 


A  COMPACT  145 

"Mademoiselle  Starling,"  I  whispered,  "to 
morrow,  at  this  time,  you  will  be  Madame  Mont- 
livet."  She  did  not  stir,  and  I  laid  my  hand 
on  her  shoulder  where  it  rose  slim  and  sinewy 
as  a  boy's  from  the  low  neck  of  her  squaw's 
dress.  I  bent  lower.  ;'You  strange  woman,"  I 
went  on,  marveling  at  her  calm.  "You  strange 
woman,  with  the  justice  of  a  man  and  the  tem 
pers  of  a  child.  Have  you  a  woman's  heart,  I 
wonder?  I  do  not  talk  to  you  of  love,  but  it 
may  be  that  it  will  come  to  us.  I  will  try  to  be 
good  to  you,  Mary  Starling.  Carry  that  pro 
mise  with  you  when  I  say  good-night." 

And  then  she  trembled.  "Wait,  wait,  mon 
sieur!  There  is  one  word  first.  I  have  tried  — 
I  have  tried  to  say  it." 

I  knelt  beside  her.  "What  would  you  say 
to  me,  mademoiselle?" 

But  she  turned  away.  "  Monsieur,  monsieur  ! 
I  will  marry  you,  yes.  But  it  is  to  save  your 
hopes,  —  your  future.  We  have  —  we  have  no 
love.  Monsieur,  will  you  not  hold  me  as  your 
guest,  your  sister?  It  is  I  who  would  kneel  to 
you,  monsieur." 

I  pushed  her  down.  "Sit  still,"  I  com 
manded.  I  turned  my  back  to  her,  for  I  had  no 
speech.  She  did  not  plead,  but  I  could  feel  her 
tremble.  I  forced  words  out  of  me. 

"You  are  a  Protestant?" 


146  MONTLIVET 

"Yes,  monsieur." 

I  picked  up  the  corner  of  her  blanket.  "  I  am 
a  Catholic,"  I  said,  drawing  away  the  woolen 
folds  that  I  might  look  at  her.  "In  our  church 
marriage  is  a  sacrament,  mademoiselle." 

She  lifted  her  great  eyes.  "Monsieur,  our 
marriage  will  be  no  sacrament.  It  will  be  a 
political  contract.  A  marriage  —  a  marriage  of 
convenience  —  in  name  only  —  Surely  when  we 
reach  home  it  can  be  annulled.  Must  I  —  must 
I  beg  of  you,  monsieur  ?  " 

I  rose  and  looked  down  at  her.  "A  strange 
woman  of  a  strange  race,"  I  said.  "No,  you 
need  not  beg  of  me.  I  have  never  had  a  cap 
tive  in  my  life,  —  not  even  a  bird.  Mademoi 
selle,  you  shall  bear  my  name,  if  you  are  will 
ing,  for  your  protection,  but  you  shall  go  as  my 
guest  to  Montreal."  And  I  left  her  in  her  red 
blanket  and  went  away. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

WE   REACH   THE   ISLANDS 

THE  dawn  came  with  an  uprush  of  unclouded 
light  showing  burnished  green  leaves  and  dan 
cing  water.  I  bowed  my  head  to  the  woman's 
hand  to  bid  her  good-morning,  and  I  served  her 
with  meal  cakes  and  sweet  water  from  a  maple 
tree.  I  was  reckless  of  Pierre's  eyes,  though  I 
knew  them  to  be  weasel  sharp  for  certain  sides 
of  life.  The  woman  answered  me  but  scant 
ily,  and  when  we  were  embarked  sat  quiet  in 
the  bottom  of  the  canoe.  I  forbore  to  look  at 
her. 

The  men  feared  my  mood  that  day,  so  paddled 
well.  I  charged  them  not  to  speak  nor  sing,  for 
I  would  have  no  wasted  breath,  and  the  sombre 
shore,  pine  and  tamarack  and  savage  rock, 
passed  before  us  like  pictures  dropping  from  a 
roll.  Toward  sunset  I  sighted  a  canoe  full  of 
warriors,  and  when  we  drew  near  I  saw  that 
they  were  Pottawatamies. 

"Are  we  near  your  islands  ?"  I  hailed. 

The  men  bowed  toward  the  southwest.  "The 
space  of  the  star  rising,  and  you  will  reach  them 
if  you  travel,"  spoke  the  tallest.  "You  ride 


148  MONTLIVET 

fast.  I  have  seen  you  come  like  the  white  squall 
on  the  water." 

I  called  again.  "Does  Father  Nouvel  tarry 
with  you?"  I  cried. 

I  thought  that  they  looked  at  the  maid  in  the 
canoe.  "  He  tarries,"  they  answered. 

I  gave  the  signal  and  we  slipped  away.  "To 
the  shore,"  I  commanded,  and  the  two  canoes 
took  new  vigor.  The  men,  like  stall-fed  beasts, 
spurred  themselves  by  the  prospect  of  eating 
and  idleness,  and  we  were  soon  at  the  beach. 
I  bent  over  the  woman. 

"Be  prepared,"  I  whispered.  "I  must  tell 
the  men.  If  I  play  the  clown  it  is  but  to  im 
press  them,  mademoiselle." 

She  met  my  glance  with  a  look  of  entire  un 
derstanding,  and  rising  gave  me  her  finger  tips 
and  stepped  from  the  canoe.  I  do  not  know 
how  she  turned  all  in  one  instant  from  a  sun 
burned  stripling  to  a  great  lady,  but  that  was 
what  occurred.  The  men,  stretching  themselves 
as  they  stepped  to  the  shore,  stopped  and  stared. 
I  saw  that  I  must  speak  quickly. 

"Let  the  canoes  alone,"  I  said.  "We  will 
stop  here  but  a  moment.  Go  —  all  of  you  — 
and  gather  green  twigs  and  young  ferns,  and 
flowers  if  you  can  find  them.  Then  bring 
them  to  me  here.  Go." 

The   men    stood   as  jointless   as   tin   images. 


WE  REACH  THE  ISLANDS         149 

But  I  saw  that  they  were  not  only  dumfoimded 
but  afraid,  so  I  laid  my  hand  on  my  sword,  to 
give  them  better  cause  for  their  stupefaction. 
"Go!"  I  shouted  again,  and  so  perverse  is  my 
nature  that,  though  I  knew  well  I  had  no  cause 
for  merriment,  I  swallowed  hard  to  keep  back 
a  smile. 

The  woman  and  I  stood  alone  while  the  men 
jerked  their  way  like  automatons  from  bush  to 
tree.  The  chaos  of  their  minds  had  numbed 
their  muscles,  and  they  stripped  the  young  boughs 
clumsily  like  a  herd  of  browsing  moose.  I  did 
not  look  at  the  woman.  I  knew  that  she  needed 
all  my  courtesy,  but  it  was  hard  to  speak  to  her 
just  then. 

The  men  wandered  for  perhaps  five  minutes, 
then  ranged  themselves  before  me.  They  bore, 
a  curious  collection  of  grasses,  mutilated  tama 
rack  boughs,  and  crushed  brakes.  They  eyed 
my  sword  hilt,  and  looked  ready  for  flight.  Yet 
I  was  master,  and  they  remembered  it.  Had  I 
ordered  them  to  eat  the  fodder  that  they  bore, 
they  would  not  have  spoken,  and  I  think  that 
they  would  have  endeavored  to  obey. 

I  pointed  to  the  canoe  where  the  woman  was 
accustomed  to  sit.  "Place  the  greens  there," 
I  said.  "Make  a  carpet  of  them  where  the  red 
blanket  is  lying.  Work  quickly,  —  then  come 
here.  No  talking." 


150  MONTLIVET 

They  obeyed.  They  dressed  the  canoe  like  a 
river  barge  on  a  fete  day,  and  again  they  lined 
themselves  before  me.  I  took  the  woman  by  the 
hand. 

"You  have  decked  the  canoe  for  my  wedding 
journey,"  I  said,  and  all  my  perverse  inner  mer 
riment  suddenly  died.  "  This  traveler,  whom  you 
have  known  as  a  man,  is  Mademoiselle  Marie 
Starling  and  my  promised  wife.  We  are  to 
be  married  when  we  reach  the  Pottawatamie 
Islands.  She  is  your  future  mistress,  and  you 
may  come  and  touch  her  hand  and  swear  to 
serve  her  as  faithfully  as  you  have  served  me. 
Pierre,  you  may  come  first." 

A  man  who  has  seen  battle  knows  that  the  pang 
of  a  bullet  can  clear  even  a  peasant's  clogged 
brain.  The  churls  took  this  blow  in  silence  and 
tried  to  make  something  out  of  it.  What  they 
made  I  could  not  fathom,  but  it  lifted  them  out 
of  themselves,  for  after  a  moment  they  raised 
their  eyes  and  came  forward  like  men.  I  had 
never  seen  them  in  an  equal  guise;  I  could 
have  grasped  them  by  the  hand  had  it  been 
wise. 

The  woman  extended  her  palm  to  them,  and 
gave  them  each  a  word  as  they  passed  in  review. 
She  was  gracious,  she  was  smiling,  yet  somehow 
she  was  negligent.  I  was  not  prepared  that  she 
should  be  used  to  homage.  Perhaps  I  had 


WE  REACH  THE  ISLANDS        151 

thought  that  this  bit  of  vassalage  would  give  her 
pleasure.  She  treated  it  like  an  old  tale. 

"Enough,"  I  ordered  "Pierre,  you  may 
draw  a  portion  of  brandy  all  around  and  drink 
to  the  health  of  your  mistress.  Then  we  shall 
get  under  way." 

Pierre's  portions  were  always  ample,  and  the 
western  red  was  dulling  by  the  time  we  were 
again  afloat.  I  did  not  paddle,  but  seated  my 
self  beside  the  woman  on  the  crushed  leaves 
and  watched  in  inactivity  and  silence  while 
the  starlight  came.  As  the  dusk  deepened  we 
slipped  by  strange  islands,  but  I  held  the  canoes 
straight  in  advance  till  a  limestone  headland 
rose  white  out  of  the  blurred,  violet  water.  The 
star  shine  showed  a  deep  bay  and  wavering  lights 
among  the  trees.  I  touched  the  woman's  shoul 
der. 

"The  largest  of  the  Pottawatamie  Islands,"  I 
explained.  "I  have  had  maps.  Pray  God  we 
may  find  what  we  seek." 

The  canoes  bumped  and  slid  upward  on  the 
sand,  and  I  left  the  men  on  guard,  and  taking  the 
woman's  hand  led  her  toward  the  lights.  A  rab 
ble  of  dogs  trooped  upon  us  and  gave  tongue,  and 
black  shapes,  arrow-laden,  clustered  out  of  the 
wigwams. 

"  Peca,"  I  cried,  in  greeting,  and  again, 
"  Where  is  your  chief  ?  Where  is  Onanguisse  ?  " 


152  MONTLIVET 

A  French  voice  answered,  "Who  calls?'* 
The  mat  that  hung  before  the  entrance  of  the 
nearest  lodge  was  pulled  aside,  and  smoke  and 
red  light  flared  out  of  the  opening.  I  saw  the 
black  robe  of  a  priest ! 

"Father  Nouvel,  Father  Nouvel!"  I  cried  like 
a  schoolboy.  'You  are  indeed  here!" 

The  priest  stooped  to  pass  through  the  skin- 
draped  opening,  and  came  peering  into  the  star- 
light. 

"Who  calls  Father  Nouvel?"  he  demanded  in 
a  mellow  voice,  rich  in  intonations.  "  What,  an 
Indian  woman,  monsieur!  Who  are  you  ?  What 
means  this  ?" 

I  led  the  woman  forward.  "Father  Nouvel, 
this  is  Mademoiselle  Starling,  an  Englishwoman 
who  was  captured  by  the  Indians.  We  have  trav 
eled  fast  and  far  to  find  you.  Can  you  marry  us 
at  once  ?  " 

It  was  badly  done.  I  had  jumbled  my  speech 
without  wit  or  address,  like  a  peasant  dragging 
his  milkmaid  before  the  village  cure.  The  wo 
man  may  have  felt  my  clumsiness.  She  dropped 
my  hand,  and  curtsied  deeply  to  the  father,  and 
he,  staring,  checked  the  hand  that  he  had  raised 
to  extend  to  her,  and  bowed  deeply  in  turn.  It 
was  a  meeting,  not  of  priest  and  refugee,  but  of 
a  man  and  woman  who  had  known  the  world. 
Father  Nouvel  was  very  old  and  his  skin  was 


WE  REACH  THE  ISLANDS        153 

wrinkled  ivory,  but  at  this  moment  he  wore  his 
cassock  as  if  it  were  a  doublet  slashed  with  gold. 
His  command  was  an  entreaty. 

"Come  nearer,  daughter.  I  wish  to  see  your 
face." 

She  followed  him  close  to  the  flaring  light  that 
poured  from  the  wigwam,  and  he  looked  at  her  as 
unsparingly  as  if  she  were  a  portrait  of  paint  and 
oil. 

"I  have  never  seen  you,"  he  decided.  ;'Yet 
the  name  Starling,  —  it  is  unusual,  and  it  brings 
troubling  memories  to  my  mind." 

The  woman  deliberated  a  moment.  She  was 
indeed  a  woman  with  wit  that  did  not  need  mine, 
and  I  felt  it  to  be  so,  and  I  stood  at  one  side,  and 
thought  out  my  own  conclusions.  She  looked 
up.  "At  Meudon?"  she  suggested  to  the 
priest. 

He  smote  his  palms  together.  "I  am  old," 
he  mourned.  "  Else  I  could  never  have  forgotten. 
At  Meudon,  of  course.  It  was  at  a  meeting  of 
Jacobites.  An  exile  named  Starling  —  he  was 
a  commanding  man,  my  daughter  —  was  their 
leader.  How  did  you  know?" 

She  stood  there  in  her  Indian  dress  of  skins 
with  a  forest  around  her  and  talked  of  courts. 

"I  remembered  that  you  were  in  Paris  three 
years  ago,"  she  explained,  "and  that  our  king  — 
yes,  our  king,  Father  Nouvel,  although  a  king  in 


154  MONTLIVET 

exile  —  talked  sometimes  with  you.  There  was 
often  one  of  your  order  at  the  meetings  at  Meu- 
don." 

The  father  looked  at  her.  "  I  could  almost 
think  that  age  and  loneliness  have  undone  my 
mind,"  he  said  slowly.  "  You  talk  of  kings  and 
courtiers.  Who  are  you?" 

I  waited,  perhaps  more  eagerly  than  the  priest 
himself,  for  her  reply.  None  came.  I  thought 
she  gave  a  flitting  look  toward  me,  and  so  I 
shrugged  my  shoulders  and  thrust  myself  again 
into  the  priest's  thought. 

"  If  we  were  kings,  courtiers,  and  Jacobites  all 
in  one,"  I  said  as  airily  as  might  be  in  view  of  my 
aching  muscles,  "  the  titles  would  yet  clink  dully 
as  leaden  coins,  travel- worn  as  we  are.  Can  you 
marry  us  this  evening,  Father  Nouvel  ?  " 

He  looked  at  me  keenly,  not  altogether  pleased. 

"  And  you  are"    -  he  asked. 

"Armand  de  Montlivet,  from  Montreal." 

He  relaxed  somewhat.  "I  have  heard  of  you. 
No,  I  cannot  marry  you  to-night.  I  will  find  a 
lodge  for  this  demoiselle,  and  we  will  talk  of  this 
to-morrow.  Come  now  and  let  me  bring  you  to 
the  chief,"  and  with  a  beckoning  of  the  hand  he 
led  the  way  into  the  lodge  behind  him. 

We  followed  closely.  The  lodge  was  large, 
and  was  roofed  and  floored  with  rush  mats. 
The  smoke  hung  in  a  cloud  over  our  heads,  but 


WE  REACH  THE  ISLANDS         155 

the  air  around  us  was  sufficiently  clear  for  us 
to  see,  —  though  with  some  rubbing  of  the  eyes. 
An  aged  Indian  sat  close  to  the  blaze,  and  Father 
Nouvel  walked  over  to  him. 

"Onanguisse,"  he  said,  "two  strangers  lift  the 
mat  before  your  door,  —  strangers  with  white 
faces.  Do  you  bid  them  take  broth  and  shel 
ter?" 

The  old  chief  nodded.  He  had  lacked  curi 
osity  to  look  out  at  us  while  we  had  stood  talk 
ing  before  his  door,  and  now  he  scarcely  lifted 
his  eyes. 

"Is  the  Huron  with  them?"  he  asked  the 
priest. 

I  pushed  forward.  "What  Huron?"  I  de 
manded,  in  the  Pottawatamie  speech. 

The  chief  stirred  somewhat  at  hearing  me 
use  his  language.  "A  Huron  is  in  the  woods," 
he  said  indifferently.  "Every  one  must  live, 
thieves  as  well  as  others,  but  I  do  not  like  it  that 
he  stole  our  squashes.  When  a  Huron  comes, 
you  will  soon  see  the  French." 

I  would  have  asked  questions,  for  I  craved 
more  news,  but  before  the  words  could  form, 
since  I  am  slow,  the  woman  spoke. 

"Nadouk!"  she  exclaimed.  "I  understand 
that  word.  It  means  Huron.  Are  the  Hurons 
pursuing  us?" 

Her    wToman's    voice    echoed    oddly    in    that 


156  MONTLIVET 

smoke-grimed  place.  Onanguisse  looked  up. 
I  have  lived  among  Indians,  and  know  some 
sides  of  their  nature,  but  I  am  never  prepared 
for  what  they  may  do.  The  old  chief  stared  and 
then  rose.  "A  white  thrush!"  he  said,  and  he 
looked  at  Father  Nouvel  for  explanation. 

"They  come  to  be  married,"  the  priest  has 
tened.  "Have  you  an  empty  lodge  for  the 
maiden?" 

Onanguisse  listened,  then  walked  to  the  wo 
man,  and  looked  at  her  as  he  would  study  a 
blurred  trail  in  the  forest.  She  bore  his  scrutiny 
well,  and  he  grunted  approval.  Now  that  he 
had  risen  he  was  impressive.  He  was  tall,  and 
had  that  curious,  loose-jointed  suppleness  that,  I 
have  heard  women  say,  comes  only  from  gen 
tle  blood.  As  he  stood  beside  Father  Nouvel  it 
came  to  me  that  the  two  men  were  somewhat  kin. 
One  face  was  patrician  and  the  other  savage, 
but  they  were  both  old  men  who  bore  their  years 
with  wisdom  and  kept  the  salt  of  humor  close 
at  hand.  The  chief  turned  to  me. 

"To  marry?  It  is  the  moon  of  flowers,  and 
the  birds  are  mating.  It  is  well.  The  white 
thrush  shall  sleep  in  my  lodge  to-night.  I  will 
go  elsewhere.  Come,"  and  pointing  to  the  door, 
he  would  have  driven  the  priest  and  myself  out 
side  without  more  words. 

I    glanced    around.     The    lodge    was    unex- 


WE  REACH  THE  ISLANDS         157 

pectedly  neat,  and  though  I  dreaded  to  leave 
the  woman  in  the  smoke,  I  knew  it  was  unwise 
to  protest.  Would  she  be  willing  to  stay  ?  She 
was  often  ruled  by  impulse,  and  it  would  be  like 
her  to  clamor  for  the  clean  starlight.  I  told  her, 
in  short  phrase,  what  the  chief  had  said.  "And 
I  beg  you  to  show  as  little  repugnance  as  pos 
sible,"  I  added. 

She  listened  without  showing  me  her  eyes, 
which  were  always  the  only  index  I  had  to  what 
was  in  her  mind. 

"Thank  the  chief  for  his  hospitality,"  she 
rejoined,  and  she  looked  toward  Onanguisse, 
and  bowed  with  a  pretty  gesture  of  acceptance. 
Then  she  walked  over  to  me. 

"When  you  thought  me  a  man,"  she  said 
hurriedly,  and  in  a  tone  so  low  that  only  I  could 
hear,  "you  trusted  somewhat  to  my  judgment, 

—  even  though  you  saw  me  fail.     When  you 
found  me  a  woman,  you  trusted  less,  arid  since 

—  since  you  arranged  to  marry  me,  you  have 
assumed  that  I  would  fail  you  at  every  turn. 
Ours  is  a  crooked  road,  monsieur,  and  there  are 
many  turns  ahead.     If  you  burden  your  mind 
so  heavily  with  me  you  cannot  attend  to  what 
is  your  real  concern.     Trust  me  more.     Think 
less  about  me.     I  will  show  no  irritation,  no 
initiative,  and  I  will  follow  where  you  point.     I 
should  like  to  think  that  you  would  rest  to-night, 


158  MONTLIVET 

—  rest  care  free.     I  wish  you  good-night,  mon 
sieur." 

She  had  spoken  with  a  hurry  of  low-toned 
words  that  left  me  no  opening,  and  now  she 
turned  away  before  my  tongue  was  ready  to 
serve  my  mind.  She  bowed  us  to  the  door,  and 
the  rush  mat  fell  between  us.  I  watched  the  old 
chief  stalk  away  and  wondered  what  was  in  his 
mind. 

"Is  this  the  first  white  woman  he  has  seen?" 
I  asked  the  priest. 

Father  Nouvel  smiled  reflectively  at  the  re 
treating  back.  "Oh,  no,"  he  replied.  "He  has 
been  in  Quebec.  He  is  the  chief  you  must 
have  heard  quoted,  who  vaunted  that  God  had 
made  three  great  men,  —  La  Salle,  Frontenac, 
and  himself.  He  is  a  crafty  man  and  able.  You 
see  that  he  never  squanders  strength  nor  words. 
No,  monsieur,  you  must  not  follow  me."  He 
stopped  to  lay  a  hand  on  my  shoulder.  "Take 
heed,  my  son.  Ox  that  you  look  to  be  for  endur 
ance,  there  are  yet  lines  under  your  eyes.  I  will 
not  talk  to  you  to-night.  Sleep  well.  I  take  it 
for  granted  that  you  prefer  to  sleep  as  I  do,  under 
the  stars."  And  putting  out  his  thin,  ivory  hand 
in  blessing,  he  went  away. 

But  I  was  not  ready  for  sleep.  I  went  to  the 
canoes,  sent  the  men  to  rest,  and  found  food  which 
I  carried  to  the  woman,  and  left,  with  a  whis- 


WE  REACH  THE  ISLANDS         159 

pered  word,  outside  her  door.  Then  I  ate  some 
parched  corn,  and  lighting  my  pipe,  lay  down 
to  take  counsel  of  what  had  befallen  me.  I  lay 
at  some  distance  from  the  woman's  lodge,  but 
not  so  far  but  that  I  could  see  the  rush  mat  that 
hung  before  it.  The  Indians  watched  me,  but 
kept  at  a  distance.  I  saw  that  Onanguisse  had 
given  commands. 

I  had  so  much  to  work  out  in  my  mind  that  I 
thought  sleep  would  come  slowly,  but  I  remember 
nothing  from  the  moment  when  I  bolstered  my 
head  in  my  arms  till  I  found  the  moon  shining 
in  my  face.  It  had  been  starlight  when  I  went 
to  sleep,  I  remembered,  and  I  raised  my  eyelids 
warily.  A  wild  life  teaches  the  dullest  to  know 
when  he  has  been  wakened  by  some  one  watch 
ing  him.  And  I  knew  it  now. 

The  world  was  white  light  and  thick  shadow. 
Wigwams,  dogs,  stumps,  trees,  sleeping  Indians, 
I  counted  them  in  turn.  Then  I  saw  more.  A 
pine  tree  near  me  had  too  thick  a  trunk.  That 
was  what  I  had  expected.  I  let  my  eyes  travel 
cautiously  upward  till  they  met  the  shining  points 
of  eyes  watching  me. 

I  lay  and  looked,  and  the  eyes  looked  in  re 
turn.  I  did  not  dare  glance  away  and  the  Indian 
would  not,  so  we  stared  like  basilisks.  It  was  not 
an  heroic  position,  and  having  a  white  man's 
love  for  open  action,  I  had  to  argue  with  myself 


160  MONTLIVET 

to  keep  from  letting  my  sword  whistle.  But  fight 
ing  with  savages  is  not  open  nor  heroic.  It  is 
tedious,  oblique,  often  uninteresting,  and  fre 
quently  fatal.  I  was  unwilling  to  lose  my  head 
just  then.  So  I  lay  still.  If  this  were  the 
Huron,  he  was  probably  merely  reconnoitring, 
as  I  had  reason  to  believe  he  had  done  several 
times  before.  His  game  interested  me,  for  he 
seemed  to  work  unnecessarily  hard  for  meagre 
returns,  and  Indians  are  seldom  spendthrifts  of 
endeavor.  I  could  accomplish  nothing  by  cap 
turing  him,  for  I  should  learn  nothing.  There 
was  ostensible  peace  between  the  Huron  nation 
and  myself.  I  would  let  him  work  out  his  plans 
till  he  did  something  that  I  could  lay  hold  of.  Yet 
I  would  not  look  away.  I  had  grown  very  curious 
to  see  his  face. 

I  do  not  know  how  it  would  have  ended,  or 
whether  dawn  would  have  found  us  still  staring 
like  barnyard  cats,  for  chance,  and  a  dog,  sud 
denly  settled  the  matter.  The  dog,  a  forlorn, 
flea-driven  cur,  snuffed  the  fresh  trail,  followed 
it  to  the  tree,  and  snarled  out  a  shout  of  protest. 
He  snarled  but  once.  The  Indian  drew  his 
knife,  stooped,  and  I  heard  the  sound  of  tearing 
hide  and  spouting  blood.  It  was  only  a  dog,  but 
I  cursed  myself  for  not  having  been  quicker. 

And  so  I  sat  up.  I  was  forced  to  shift  my  eyes 
for  an  instant  in  order  to  pick  up  my  musket, 


WE  REACH  THE  ISLANDS        161 

which,  secure  in  a  friendly  camp,  I  had  dropped 
at  a  careless  arm's  length  from  me  on  the  ground. 
When  I  looked  again  the  Indian  was  gone.  I 
went  to  the  tree.  The  Indian  had  had  but  an 
instant,  but  he  had  secured  himself  out  of  reach 
of  my  eyesight ;  had  faded  into  the  background  as 
a  partridge  screens  itself  behind  mottled  leaves. 
If  I  followed  him,  a  knife  would  be  slipped  out 
at  me  from  behind  stump  or  tree  trunk,  and  the 
dog  might  not  have  burial  alone. 

I  went  to  the  dog  and  stirred  him  with  my 
sword  point.  He  was  a  noisome  heap,  but 
I  knew  that  I  must  overcome  my  repugnance 
and  bury  him,  or  I  should  have  to  explain  the 
whole  tale  to  the  camp  at  dawn.  And  expla 
nation  would  take  time  and  was  not  necessary. 
The  Huron  was  following  me,  and  had  no 
quarrel  with  the  Pottawatamies.  When  I  de 
parted  on  the  morrow  he  would  undoubtedly 
retie  his  sandals  and  continue  the  voyage.  A 
wife  and  a  ghost!  Two  traveling  guests  I  had 
not  reckoned  with  in  planning  this  expedition. 
I  shrugged,  and  stooped  to  spit  the  dog  upon  my 
sword,  when  I  saw  a  skin  pouch  lying  blood- 
bathed  at  the  creature's  side.  It  was  a  bag  such 
as  savages  wear  around  their  necks,  and  the 
Indian  had  probably  let  it  fall  when  he  stooped 
to  kill  the  dog. 

I  seized  it,  careless  of  the   smearing  of  my 


162  MONTLIVET 

fingers,  and  took  it  to  the  moonlight.  It  was 
made  of  the  softest  of  dressed  doeskin,  and  em 
broidered  in  red  porcupine  quills  with  the  fig 
ure  of  a  beaver  squatting  on  a  rounded  lodge.  I 
had  seen  that  design  before.  It  was  the  to 
tem  sign  of  the  house  of  the  Baron,  and  this  bag 
had  hung  from  Pemaou's  neck  that  day  when  he 
danced  between  me  and  the  sunset  and  flung  the 
war  spear  at  my  heart. 

I  felt  myself  grow  keenly  awake  and  alive. 
So  it  was  Pemaou  who  was  following.  Well,  I 
had  told  him  that  we  should  meet  again.  I 
untied  the  strings  of  the  bag  and  turned  its 
contents  into  my  handkerchief.  There  was  an 
amulet  in  the  form  of  a  beaver's  paw,  a  twist  of 
tobacco,  a  flint,  a  tin  looking-glass,  and  a  folded 
sheet  of  birch  bark.  I  stopped  a  moment. 
Should  I  look  further?  It  was  wartime  and  I 
was  dealing  with  a  savage.  I  unfolded  the  bark 
and  pressed  it  open  in  my  palm.  There,  boldly 
drawn  in  crayon,  was  a  head  in  profile;  it  was 
the  profile  of  the  woman  who  lay  in  the  lodge, 
and  whose  mat-hung  door  I  was  guarding.  Yes, 
it  was  her  profile,  and  it  was  one  that  no  man 
could  forget,  though  when  ]  speak  of  a  straight 
nose  and  an  oddly  rounded  chin,  they  are  but 
words  to  fit  a  thousand  faces. 

I  refolded  the  bark,  put  it  in  my  pocket,  and 
buried  the  dog.  Then  I  sat  down  before  the 


WE  REACH  THE  ISLANDS         163 

woman's  wigwam.  I  had  one  point  to  work  on 
in  my  speculations.  No  Indian  would  draw  a 
head  in  profile,  for  he  would  be  superstitious 
about  creating  half  of  a  person.  I  slept  no  more 
that  night. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

A   PROVISIONAL  BARGAIN 

I  BEGAN  my  day  as  early  as  I  thought  it  wise  to 
disturb  the  sleepers  around  me,  and  by  the  time 
the  sun  was  two  hours  high  I  had  accomplished 
several  things.  I  had  confessed  to  the  priest, 
had  had  a  clean  lodge  of  green  boughs  built  for 
the  woman,  and  had  bargained  and  bantered 
with  the  Indians,  and  blustered  over  them  with 
knowledge  of  their  language  till  they  accorded 
me  reluctant  grins.  They  had  a  village  of  seven 
or  eight  hundred  souls,  and  I  found  them  a 
marked  people.  They  were  cleaner  than  any 
savages  I  had  seen,  —  the  women  were  modest 
and  almost  neat,  —  and  their  manners  had  a 
somewhat  European  air.  I  judged  them  to  be 
politicians  rather  than  warriors,  for  the  braves, 
though  well  shaped  and  wiry,  lacked  the  look 
of  ferocious  hardihood  that  terrified  white  men 
in  the  Iroquois  race.  But  I  found  them  keen 
traders. 

One  purchase  that  I  made  took  time.  I  wished 
a  new  suit  of  skins  for  the  woman,  and  I  went 
from  lodge  to  lodge,  searching  and  brow-beating 
and  dangling  my  trinkets  till  I  was  ready  to  join 


A  PROVISIONAL  BARGAIN        165 

with  the  squaws  in  their  laughter  at  my  expense. 
But  my  purchase  once  completed  pleasured  me 
greatly.  I  had  found  it  a  little  here  and  a  little 
there,  and  it  was  worthy  any  princess  of  the 
woods.  I  had  gathered  blouse,  skirt,  leggings, 
and  moccasins,  all  new,  and  made  of  white 
dressed  deerskin  pliable  as  velvet  to  the  hand. 
They  looked  to  me  full  of  feminine  bravery.  The 
leggings  and  moccasins  were  beaded  and  quill 
broidered,  and  the  skirt  was  fringed  and  trimmed 
with  tiny  hawk's  bells. 

I  took  the  garments  to  the  green  lodge,  laid 
them  out  in  order,  saw  that  there  were  trenchers 
of  fresh  water,  and  brought  what  conveniences 
we  had  from  the  canoe.  The  pity  of  the  situ 
ation  came  upon  me  hard.  I  had  to  be  father 
and  friend,  —  lover  I  could  not  be.  The  woman 
had  great  self-control,  but  she  would  need  it. 
Well,  I  could  trust  her  to  do  her  best.  I  went 
to  find  her. 

As  yet  I  had  not  said  good-morning  to  her, 
although  I  had  seen  her  from  the  distance,  and 
knew  that  she  had  breakfasted  and  had  talked 
with  Father  Nouvel.  She  was  sitting  now  under 
a  beech  tree  on  the  headland,  and  when  I  bent 
before  her  she  shook  her  head. 

"It  is  not  real,"  she  said,  with  a  look  over 
water  and  forest.  "It  is  all  a  dream." 

I  stopped  to  send  a  group  of  curious  squaws 


166  MONTLIVET 

upon  their  way.  It  was  indeed  like  a  pictured 
spectacle,  —  the  green  wood,  the  Indian  village, 
and  the  headland-guarded  bay  opening  north 
ward  over  rolling  water. 

"Yes,  it  is  a  dream,"  I  agreed.  "You  will 
soon  wake.  Where  would  you  like  the  waken 
ing  to  take  place,  mademoiselle?  At  Meu- 
don?" 

She  looked  up  with  a  smile.  "What  would 
you  like  to  know  about  me?"  she  asked,  with 
a  sober  directness,  which,  like  her  smile,  was 
friendly  and  brave.  :' You  heard  something  last 
night.  I  am  entirely  willing  to  tell  you  more. 
But  is  it  not  wise  for  us  to  know  as  little  as  pos 
sible  about  each  other?" 

"Why,  mademoiselle?" 

She  hesitated.  "As  we  stand  now,"  she  ex 
plained  slowly,  "we  have  no  past  nor  future. 
We  live  in  a  fantasy.  We  are  cold  and  hungry, 
but  life  is  so  strange  that  we  forget  our  bodies. 
It  is  all  as  unreal  as  a  mirage.  When  it  is  over, 
we  part.  If  we  part  knowing  nothing  of  each 
other,  it  will  all  seem  like  a  dream." 

I  thought  a  moment.  "Then  you  think  that 
we  must  guard  against  growing  interested  in  each 
other,  mademoiselle?" 

She  looked  at  me  gravely.  ;'Yes.  Do  you 
not  think  so,  monsieur  ?  '  Friends  for  the  night's 
bivouac.'  Those  were  your  words." 


A  PROVISIONAL  BARGAIN        167 

Now  was  here  a  woman  who  felt  deeply  and 
talked  lightly?  I  had  not  met  such.  "It  is 
wise,"  I  rejoined,  "but  difficult."  I  took  the 
crayon  from  my  pocket  and  began  drawing 
faces  on  the  white  limestone  rock  at  my  side.  I 
drew  idly  and  scowled  at  my  work.  "The  In 
dians  can  do  better,"  I  lamented.  "Was  your 
cousin,  Benjamin  Starling,  clever  with  his  pencil, 
mademoiselle  ?  " 

She  drew  back,  but  she  answered  me  fairly. 
"Very  clever,"  she  said  quietly.  "It  was  a  tal 
ent.  Why  do  you  ask,  monsieur?" 

"I  find  myself  thinking  of  him."  I  dropped 
the  crayon.  "Listen,  mademoiselle.  I  must  ask 
you  some  questions.  Believe  me,  I  have  reasons. 
Now  as  to  your  cousin,  —  is  he  alive  ?" 

She  looked  off  at  the  water.  "I  do  not  know, 
monsieur." 

She  had  become  another  woman.  I  hated 
Benjamin  Starling  that  his  name  could  so  in 
stantly  sap  the  life  from  her  tone. 

"  Please  look  at  me,"  I  begged  irritably.  "  Ma 
demoiselle,  I  think  that  I  must  ask  you  to  tell 
me  more,  —  to  tell  me  much  more." 

She  rose.     "Is  it  necessary  ?" 

I  bowed.  "Else  I  should  not  ask  it.  Please 
sit,  mademoiselle." 

She  sat  where  my  hand  pointed.  "You  know 
that  we  were  Tories,"  she  began,  in  the  quiet 


168  MONTLIVET 

monotone  I  had  learned  to  expect  from  her  under 
stress,  "  and  that  our  family  followed  King  James 
to  France.  My  parents  died.  I  had  no  brothers 
or  sisters,  and  so,  a  year  ago,  I  came  to  the  Col 
onies  where  I  had  friends.  Later,  my  cousin  fol 
lowed,  and  we  were  betrothed.  We  had  the 
same  cause  at  heart,  and  our  joint  estates  would 
give  us  some  power.  We  planned  to  use  them 
for  that  purpose." 

"And  your  capture?  Did  your  cousin  know 
of  it?" 

"  Monsieur,  you  say  that  this  is  necessary  ? 
My  nurse  had  come  to  America,  and  married  a 
settler,  in  a  village  on  the  frontier.  She  was  ill, 
and  I  went  to  see  her,  and  stayed  some  days. 
My  cousin  followed,  and  stayed  at  a  neighbor 
ing  house.  One  night  the  Indians  came.  The 
woman's  husband  was  away,  and  the  little  maid 
servant  ran  at  the  first  outcry.  I  was  alone 
with  the  woman,  who  could  not  leave  her  bed.  I 
cut  my  hair  roughly,  put  on  a  suit  of  her  hus 
band's  clothing,  and  took  a  musket.  It  was  a 
blockhouse,  and  I  hoped  that  I  might  hold  the 
Indians  off  for  a  time  if  they  thought  me  a 
man." 

"And  your  cousin?" 

"He  came  to  me.  He  wTas  running.  He 
said  it  was  of  no  use.  He  had  seen  men  brained. 
There  were  legions  of  Indians.  He  said  there 


A  PROVISIONAL  BARGAIN        169 

was  nothing  left  but  flight.  He  tried  to  take  me 
with  him." 

"And  when  you  would  not  go?  When  you 
would  not  desert?" 

"Monsieur,  he  went  alone." 

I  laid  myself  down  on  the  grass  before  her, 
and  covered  her  hands  with  mine.  "I  am  not 
quite  a  brute,"  I  said.  "I  had  to  ask  it.  Look, 
look,  mademoiselle,  it  is  all  over.  See,  the  sky 
is  gentle,  and  the  Indians  are  friendly,  and  my 
sword  —  Well,  I  will  not  leave  you,  mademoi 
selle,  until  you  tell  me  to  go.  But  I  must  say 
more.  Your  cousin  -  Is  he  Lord  Starling?" 
t  ."Yes." 

"Lord  Starling  is  probably  alive.  If  he  is, 
he  is  searching  for  you.  Have  you  thought  of 
that?" 

"But  the  wilderness,  —  the  terrible  leagues 
of  wilderness!  He  could  not  track  me,  mon 
sieur." 

"When  there  is  money  and  influence,  even  the 
wilderness  has  messengers.  He  was  close  to  the 
person  of  James.  Is  he  a  Catholic?" 

"He  professed  it,  monsieur." 

I  shook  my  head.  ;'You  are  very  bitter. 
You  need  not  be.  He  was  insane  that  night. 
I  have  known  the  sight  of  Indian  butchery  to 
turn  good  men  into  whimpering  animals.  He 
was  not  responsible.  I  know  that  he  is  lavish- 


170  MONTLIVET 

ing  time  and  fortune  and  strength  to  find  you 
now." 

I  thought  she  winced.  'You  know  this,  mon 
sieur?" 

It  was  my  turn  to  look  away.  "I  know  some 
thing  of  a  man's  heart,"  I  answered  deliberately. 
"If  I  loved  you,  mademoiselle,  and  lost  you 
—  lost  you,  and  played  the  craven,  —  I  should 
find  you.  The  wilderness  would  not  matter.  I 
should  find  you.  I  should  find  you,  and  retrieve 
myself  —  some  way.  Lord  Starling  has  wit  and 
daring,  else  he  would  not  be  an  exile,  else  you 
would  not  have  promised  to  marry  him.  Be  as 
sured  that  he  is  following  you,  and  is  probably 
not  far  behind.  Do  you  want  him  to  find  you, 
mademoiselle?" 

I  turned  with  the  last  word,  and  looked  her  full 
in  the  face.  It  was  a  stupid  trick,  but  it  served. 
I  had  her  answer. 

"There!"  I  cried,  and  I  laughed  a  little  jerk 
ily.  "Never  mind.  Don't  answer.  We  have 
talked  enough,  mademoiselle.  We  will  be  mar 
ried  at  noon  to-day.  Ah,  you  never  loved  him, 
else,  no  matter  what  he  had  done,  you  could 
never  look  as  you  look  now.  Wherever  he  is, 
or  whatever  kind  of  man  he  may  be,  I  do  him 
no  wrong  in  giving  you  my  name  to-day."  I 
took  the  pictured  birch  bark  from  my  pocket, 
and  tore  it  in  fine  strips.  "A  useless  map,"  I 


A  PROVISIONAL  BARGAIN        171 

said  in  explanation.  "  Mademoiselle,  may  I  have 
your  finger  to  measure?" 

She  gave  me  her  hand,  and  I  circled  her  finger 
with  a  grass  blade,  and  warned  her  that  the  ring 
that  I  should  give  her  would  be  almost  as  crude. 
She  was  trying  to  keep  herself  from  asking  ques 
tions,  and  was  going  to  succeed.  I  liked  that.  It 
was  useless  to  terrify  her  with  fables  of  prowling 
Indians,  and  profiles  on  bark.  And  then,  what 
was  there  to  tell  ?  I  knew  at  once  too  much 
and  too  little.  I  took  some  bent  gold  wire  from 
my  pocket,  and  showed  it  to  her. 

"I  am  going  to  plait  it  into  a  braid  for  the 
ring,"  I  said.  "I  think  that  I  can  file  the  ends, 
and  make  it  serve.  It  is  all  I  have.  I  wear 
no  jewelry,  and  would  not  give  you  one  of  the 
brass  rings  we  use  in  trade.  This  is  at  least 
gold." 

She  watched  me  straighten  the  kinks  in  the 
wire.  'You  took  that  from  something  you 
valued,"  she  said.  "  I  will  wear  the  brass  ring. 
Surely  you  can  replace  this  wire  where  it  be 
longs." 

I  shook  my  head.  "It  was  a  filigree  frame," 
I  volunteered. 

I  had  spoken  with  as  little  thought  as  a  dog 
barks,  and  quite  as  witlessly.  I  knew  that  as 
soon  as  I  heard  my  words.  I  looked  at  the  wo 
man.  But  she  was  not  going  to  question  me. 


172  MONTLIVET 

"If  it  was  a  frame,  it  held  a  miniature,"  she 
said  quietly.  "  Please  twist  the  wTire  around  it 
again.  I  prefer  the  brass  ring." 

"Because?" 

"  I  would  not  rob  any  one.  If  you  have  carried 
the  picture  all  these  leagues,  it  is  a  token  from 
some  one  you  love;  some  one  who  loves  you.  I 
have  no  part  in  that." 

I  went  on  plaiting  the  wire.  "The  woman 
of  the  miniature  will  know  no  robbery,"  I  said, 
"because  she  knew  no  possession.  Mademoi 
selle,  you  seem  in  every  way  to  be  a  woman  with 
whom  it  is  wisest  to  have  a  clear  understand- 
ing." 

'You  need  tell  me  nothing." 

"It  is  better  to  tell  the  whole,  now  that  you 
have  stumbled  on  a  part.  I  was  nothing  to  that 
woman  whose  face  I  carried  with  me.  She  did 
not  know  I  had  the  picture.  I  might  never  have 
told  her.  It  was  nothing,  you  see.  It  was  all 
in  a  man's  mind,  and  the  man  now  has  sterner 
matters  to  fill  his  thought.  I  would  like  you  to 
wear  this  ring." 

"Why  not  the  other?" 

I  laughed  at  her  a  little.  "  I  shall  try  not  to 
give  you  spurious  metal,  —  even  granted  that 
our  bargain  is  provisional.  Now,  mademoiselle, 
may  I  take  you  to  the  lodge  I  have  had  made  ? 
In  two  hours  we  are  to  be  married." 


A  PROVISIONAL  BARGAIN        173 

She  followed  at  my  side,  and  I  took  her  to  the 
lodge,  and  pointed  her  within.  She  glanced  at 
what  I  had  done,  and  I  saw  her  bite  her  lip.  She 
turned  to  me  without  a  smile. 

"It  all  makes  it  harder,"  she  said  indefinitely. 
"Harder  to  think  of  the  wrong  that  I  am  doing 
you  and  the  other  woman." 

I  cannot  abide  misapprehension.  We  were 
alone.  "Wait!"  I  begged.  " Mademoiselle,  you 
cannot  probe  a  man's  thought.  Often  he  cannot 
probe  his  own.  But  I  am  not  unhappy.  A 
man  marries  many  brides,  and  Ambition,  if  the 
truth  be  told,  is,  perhaps,  the  dearest.  I  shall 
embrace  her.  You  should  be  able  to  under 
stand." 

"But  the  woman.  She  must  have  seen  that 
you  loved  her.  She  may  have  cared  more  in  re 
turn  than  you  knew." 

I  looked  at  her.  "The  lady  of  the  miniature," 
I  said  slowly,  "had  many  lovers.  If  she  showed 
me  special  favor,  I  assure  you  I  did  not  know. 
But  even  if  her  fancy  did  stray  toward  me,  — 
which  I  think  it  did  not,  —  why,  she  was  — 
She  was  a  winsome,  softly  smiling,  gentle  lady, 
mademoiselle.  She  was  not  fire,  and  spirit,  and 
courage,  and  loyalty,  and  temper,  and  tenderness. 
No,  she  was  not  in  the  least  like  that.  I  think 
that  she  would  soon  forget.  Have  we  dropped 
this  subject  forever,  mademoiselle?" 


174  MONTLIVET 

She  made  me  a  grave  curtsy.  "Till  we  reach 
Montreal,"  she  promised,  and  she  did  not  raise 
her  eyes. 

We  were  married  at  noon.  The  altar  stood 
under  an  oak  tree,  and  the  light  sifted  in  pat 
terns  on  the  ground.  I  wore  satin,  and  ribbon, 
and  shining  buckle,  for  I  carried  those  gewgaws 
in  my  cargo,  but  my  finery  did  not  shame  my 
bride's  attire.  She  stood  proud,  and  rounded, 
and  supple  in  her  deerskins,  and  a  man  might 
have  gloried  in  her.  Seven  hundred  Indians, 
glistening  like  snakes  with  oil  and  vermilion, 
squatted  around  us,  but  they  held  themselves 
as  lifeless  as  marionettes.  It  was  so  still  that  I 
heard  the  snore  of  a  sleeping  dog  and  the  gulls 
in  the  harbor  squawking  over  a  floating  fish. 
Father  Nouvel  spoke  very  slowly.  This  was  a 
real  marriage,  a  sacrament,  to  him. 

As  we  turned  from  the  ceremony,  Onanguisse 
came  forward.  He  was  not  painted,  but  he  wore 
a  mantle  of  embroidered  buffalo  skin,  and  his 
hair,  which  was  dressed  high  with  eagle's  fea 
thers,  was  powdered  with  down  from  the  breasts 
of  white  gulls.  He  stood  in  front  of  the  woman. 

"Listen,"  he  said.  "I  speak  to  the  white 
thrush.  She  cannot  understand  my  words,  but 
her  heart  has  called  to  my  heart,  and  that  will 
teach  her  to  know  my  meaning.  Brethren,  bear 
witness.  An  eagle  cares  naught  for  a  partridge, 


A  PROVISIONAL  BARGAIN        175 

but  an  eagle  calls  to  an  eagle  though  there  be 
much  water  and  many  high  rocks  between. 
You  know  the  lodge  of  Onanguisse.  It  has  fire, 
but  no  warmth.  I  am  old,  and  age  needs  love 
to  warm  it,  but  I  am  alone.  First  my  wife, 
then  my  two  sons,  last  of  all,  at  the  time  the 
chestnuts  were  in  blossom,  my  daughter  Mimi, 
—  the  Master  of  Life  called  them  one  by  one. 
I  have  washed  my  face,  and  I  have  combed  my 
hair,  yet  who  can  say  I  have  not  mourned  ? 
My  life  has  been  as  dead  as  the  dried  grass  that 
thatches  the  muskrat's  lodges.  When  have  any 
of  you  seen  Onanguisse  smile  ?  Yet  think  not 
that  I  stretch  out  my  hands  to  the  country  of 
souls.  I  will  live,  and  sit  at  the  council  fire  till 
many  of  you  who  are  before  me  have  evapo 
rated  like  smoke  from  a  pipe.  For  I  am  of  the 
race  of  the  bear,  and  the  bear  never  yields  while 
one  drop  of  blood  is  left.  And  the  Master  of 
Life  has  been  kind.  He  has  brought  me  at 
last  a  woman  who  has  an  eagle's  eyesight  and 
a  bear's  endurance.  She  is  worthy  to  be  of  my 
family.  I  have  waited  for  such  an  one.  Her 
speech  is  strange,  but  her  blood  answers  mine. 
It  is  idle  to  mourn.  I  will  replace  the  dead 
with  the  living.  This  woman  shall  be  no  more 
the  white  thrush.  She  shall  be  Mimi,  the  turtle 
dove,  the  daughter  of  Onanguisse.  Brethren, 
bear  witness.  Mimi  is  no  longer  dead.  She 


176  MONTLIVET 

stands  here."  He  stepped  closer  to  the  woman. 
"I  give  you  this  cloak  that  you  may  wrap  me  in 
your  memory,"  he  went  on.  "I  hereby  confirm 
my  words;"  and  thereupon,  he  threw  over  her 
shoulders  a  long,  shining  mantle  made  of  the 
small  skins  of  the  white  hare.  It  was  a  robe 
for  an  empress. 

I  stepped  forward,  then  stood  still,  and  re 
solved  to  trust  the  woman  as  she  had  asked. 

'You  are  adopted,"  I  prompted  softly,  with 
no  motion  of  my  lips. 

She  understood.  Wrapped  in  her  white  cloak, 
she  curtsied  low  before  Onanguisse.  Then  she 
turned  to  me.  "Tell  him,"  she  said,  "that  my 
heart  is  wiser  than  my  tongue;  the  one  is  dumb, 
but  the  other  answers.  Say  to  him  that  I  see 
his  face,  and  it  tells  me  that  he  has  lived  wisely 
and  with  honor.  I  am  now  of  his  family.  I, 
too,  will  strive  to  live  wisely,  that  he  need  not  be 
shamed.  Say  to  him  that  I  will  not  forget."  She 
stopped  with  her  glance  upon  the  old  chief,  and 
her  eyes  held  something  I  had  not  seen  in  them 
before.  With  me,  their  self-reliance  had  some 
times  been  hard,  almost  provocative,  as  if  the 
spirit  behind  them  defied  the  world  to  break  it 
down.  But  as  she  met  this  kindness  —  this  kind 
ness  that  was  instinctive,  and  not  a  matter  of 
prudence  or  reason  —  all  hardness  vanished,  and 
her  dignity  was  almost  wistful.  I  thought  of  my 


A  PROVISIONAL  BARGAIN        177 

mother,  the  saddened  head  of  a  great  house,  who 
had  seen  the  ruin  of  home  and  heart,  but  whose 
spirit  would  not  die.  Something  in  this  woman's 
face,  as  she  stood  silent,  suddenly  gave  me  back 
the  vision  of  my  mother  as  I  had  seen  her  last. 
I  looked  with  my  heart  beating  hard.  The  hush 
lasted  fully  a  moment,  then  the  woman  drew 
her  cloak  closer,  curtsied  again,  and  walked  back 
to  her  green  lodge. 

I  turned  to  the  chief,  and  would  have  trans 
lated  what  had  been  said,  but  after  the  first 
phrase,  he  motioned  me  to  silence.  "She  has 
taken  my  robe.  She  has  become  of  my  family. 
That  is  sufficient."  He  lifted  his  calumet,  and 
went  to  give  orders  for  the  feasting. 

So  the  priest  and  I  stood  alone.  He  looked 
at  me,  and  shook  his  head.  His  mouth  was 
smiling,  but  I  saw  him  brush  at  his  eyes.  "  You 
have  married  a  woman  of  great  spirit,  mon 
sieur,"  he  said,  with  a  touch  of  his  hand  on  my 
sleeve.  'They  are  rare,  —  most  rare."  He 
stopped.  ;' Yet  the  roedeer  is  not  made  for  the 
paddock,"  he  said  impersonally. 

I  laughed,  and  it  sounded  exultant.  I  felt  the 
blood  hammer  in  my  temples.  "Nor  can  the 
thrush  be  tamed  to  sit  the  finger  like  the  par- 
rakeet,"  I  completed.  "I  understand  that,  Fa 
ther  Nouvel." 

The    wedding   feast    followed.     Madame   de 


178  MONTLIVET 

Montlivet,  the  priest,  Onanguisse,  and  I  sat  in 
a  semicircle  on  the  ground,  and  slaves  served 
us  with  wooden  trenchers  of  food.  We  each  had 
our  separate  service,  like  monks  in  a  refectory, 
but  we  were  not  treated  with  equal  state,  for 
the  woman  drank  from  a  copper-trimmed  ladle, 
made  from  the  polished  skull  of  a  buffalo,  while 
my  cup  was  a  dried  gourd.  We  ate  in  ceremo 
nial  silence,  and  were  sunk  in  our  own  thoughts. 
There  was  food  till  the  stomach  sickened  at  its 
gross  abundance:  whitefish,  broth,  sagamite,  the 
feet  of  a  bear,  the  roasted  tail  of  a  beaver,  I 
watched  the  slaves  bring  the  food  and  bear  it 
away,  and  I  said  to  myself  that  I  was  sitting  at 
my  wedding  feast,  —  a  feast  to  celebrate  a  false 
marriage. 

After  the  feast,  the  calumet  was  danced  before 
us.  Still  there  was  silence  between  the  woman 
and  myself  as  we  sat  side  by  side.  I  won 
dered  if  she  realized  that  this  strange  dance  was 
still  further  confirmation  of  what  we  had  done; 
that  it  was  part  of  the  ceremony  of  our  mar 
riage.  It  was  a  picture  as  unreal,  as  incom 
prehensible,  as  the  fate  we  had  invited.  The 
sun  was  westering,  and  shone  full  upon  the 
dancing  braves.  Their  corded  muscles  and 
protruding  eyes  made  them  ghastly  as  tortured 
wretches  of  some  red-lit  inferno.  There  was 
no  laughter  nor  jesting.  The  kettle-drum  rum- 


A  PROVISIONAL  BARGAIN        179 

bled  like  water  in  a  cave,  and  the  chant  of  the 
singers  wailed,  and  died,  and  wailed  again.  And 
this  was  for  my  wedding.  I  looked  down  at 
the  woman's  hand  that  bore  my  ring,  and  saw 
that  the  strong,  nervous  fingers  were  gripped  till 
they  were  bloodless.  What  was  she  thinking? 
I  tried  to  meet  her  look,  but  it  was  rapt  and 
awed.  A  wave  of  heat  ran  through  me;  the  wild 
music  beat  into  my  blood.  This  savage  ritual 
that  I  had  looked  at  with  alien  eyes  suddenly 
took  to  itself  the  dignity  of  the  terrible  wilder 
ness  that  bound  us.  The  pageantry  of  its  bar 
barism  seized  upon  me;  it  was  a  fitting  setting 
for  one  kind  of  marriage,  —  not  a  marriage  of 
flowers  and  dowry,  but  the  union  of  two  great, 
stormy  hearts  who,  through  clash  and  turmoil, 
had  found  peace  at  last.  But  ours  was  a  mock 
marriage,  and  we  had  not  found  peace.  My 
breath  choked  me.  I  leaped  to  my  feet,  and 
begged  Onanguisse  to  end  the  ceremony,  and 
let  me  do  my  share.  I  knew  what  was  my  part 
as  bridegroom,  and  Pierre  and  Labarthe  were 
waiting  with  their  arms  laden.  I  distributed 
hatchets,  Brazil  tobacco,  and  beads  from  Venice. 
Then  I  turned  to  Onanguisse. 

"We  go  to  the  land  of  the  Malhominis,  to  the 
wild  rice  people.  They  live  toward  the  south 
west?" 

He   nodded.     "Across  La  Baye   des   Puants 


180  MONTLIVET 

as  the  wild  goose  flies.  Then  down  till  you 
find  the  mouth  of  the  wild  rice  river.  But  why 
go  till  another  sunrise?" 

I  hesitated.  But  I  thought  of  the  shadowing 
Huron,  and  decided  that  I  could  elude  him  best 
at  night.  "We  are  in  haste,"  I  told  Onan- 
guisse,  and  I  pointed  the  men  toward  their 
work. 

But  before  I  myself  had  time  to  step  toward 
the  canoes,  I  felt  the  woman's  touch  upon  my 
arm.  Though,  in  truth,  it  was  odd  that  I  felt  it, 
for  the  movement  was  light  as  the  brushing  of  a 
grass  stalk. 

"Monsieur,  do  we  go  now?"  she  asked. 
"You  have  had  no  opportunity  for  council  with 
these  Indians,  yet  I  see  that  they  are  powerful." 

She  was  watching  my  interests.  I  laid  my 
fingers  on  hers,  and  looked  full  at  her  as  I  had 
not  done  since  we  had  been  man  and  wife.  Her 
eyes  were  mournful  as  they  often  were,  but  they 
were  starry  with  a  thought  I  could  not  read. 
The  awe  and  the  wonder  were  still  there,  and  her 
fingers  were  unsteady  under  mine.  I  dropped 
to  my  knees. 

"I  have  done  more  than  you  saw,"  I  said, 
with  my  eyes  on  hers.  "I  have  talked  with 
Onanguisse,  and  have  smoked  a  full  pipe  with 
the  old  men  in  council.  Thank  you  for  your 
interest.  Thank  you,  Madame  de  Montlivet." 


A  PROVISIONAL  BARGAIN        181 

But  she  would  not  look  at  me  bent  before  her. 
"That  I  wish  you  to  do  your  best,  unhampered 
by  me,  does  not  mean  that  I  wish  you  success," 
she  said,  with  her  head  high,  and  she  went  to 
Onanguisse,  and  curtsied  her  adieus.  Her  last 
words  were  with  Father  Nouvel,  and  she  hid  her 
eyes  for  a  moment,  while  he  blessed  her  and  said 
good-by. 

Our  canoes  pointed  to  the  sunset  as  we 
rounded  the  headland  and  slid  outward.  On 
the  shore,  the  Indian  women  chanted  a  hymn 
to  Messou,  —  to  Messou,  the  Maker  of  Life,  and 
the  God  of  Marriage,  to  whom,  on  our  behalf, 
many  pipes  had  been  smoked  that  day. 


CHAPTER  XV 

I   TAKE   A   NEW   PASSENGER 

Now  the  great  bay  on  which  we  were  embarked 
was  a  water  empire,  fair  to  the  eye,  but  tricky 
of  wind  and  current.  La  Baye  des  Puants  the 
French  called  it,  from  the  odor  that  came  at 
seasons  from  the  swamps  on  the  shore,  and  it 
ran  southwest  from  Lake  Illinois.  The  Potta- 
watamie  Islands  that  we  had  just  left  well-nigh 
blocked  its  mouth,  and  its  southern  end  was  the 
outlet  of  a  shining  stream  that  was  known  as  the 
River  of  the  Fox.  The  bay  was  thirty  leagues 
long  by  eight  broad,  and  had  tides  like  the  ocean. 
Five  tribes  dwelt  around  it:  the  Pottawatamies 
at  its  mouth,  the  Malhominis  halfway  down  on 
its  western  shore,  and  the  Sacs,  the  Chippewas, 
and  the  Winnebagoes  scattered  at  different  points 
in  more  transitory  camps.  To  the  east  the  bay 
was  separated  from  Lake  Illinois  by  a  long  pen 
insula  that  lay  like  a  rough-hewn  arrow  with  its 
point  to  the  polestar.  It  was  goodly  land,  I 
had  been  told,  rich  in  game,  and  splashed  with 
ponds,  but  since  it  was  too  small  to  support  the 
hunting  of  a  tribe  it  was  left  comparatively  un 
occupied.  All  of  the  five  tribes,  and  sometimes 


the  Miamis,  fished  there  at  intervals ;  it  was  neu 
tral  ground.  I  told  all  this  to  the  woman  as  our 
canoes  swept  toward  the  sunset. 

She  sat  with  her  back  to  the  west,  and  the 
sun,  that  dazzled  my  eyes,  shone  red  through 
her  brown  hair,  and  I  scorned  myself  that  I 
should  have  believed  for  a  moment  that  such 
soft,  fine  abundance  ever  framed  a  man's  fore 
head.  I  talked  to  her  freely;  talked  of  winds 
and  tides  and  Indians,  and  was  not  deterred 
when  she  answered  me  but  sparingly.  I  could 
not  see  her  face  distinctly,  because  of  the  light, 
but  there  was  something  in  the  gentleness  and 
intentness  of  her  listening  poise  that  made  me 
feel  that  she  welcomed  the  safeguard  of  my  aim 
less  speech,  but  that  for  the  moment  she  had  no 
similar  weapons  of  her  own. 

So  long  as  daylight  lasted,  we  traveled  swiftly 
toward  the  southwest,  but  when  the  sunset 
had  burned  itself  to  ashes,  and  the  sky  had 
blurred  into  the  tree  line,  I  told  the  men  to 
shift  their  paddles,  and  drift  for  a  time.  The 
last  twenty  -  four  hours  had  hardened  them  to 
surprise.  They  obeyed  me  as  they  did  Provi 
dence,  —  as  a  troublesome,  but  all  -  powerful 
enigma. 

And  so  we  floated,  swinging  like  dead  leaves 
on  the  long  swells.  The  stars  came  out,  the 
gulls  went  shoreward  for  the  night,  and  we  were 


184  MONTLIVET 

as  alone  as  if  on  the  sea.  The  woman's  slen 
der  figure,  wrapped  in  her  white  cloak,  became 
a  silent,  shining  wraith.  She  was  within  touch 
of  my  hand,  yet  unreachably  remote.  I  lost  my 
glib  speech.  The  gray  loneliness  that  one  feels 
in  a  crowd  came  over  me.  If  I  had  been  alone 
with  my  men,  I  should  have  felt  well  accom 
panied,  master  of  my  craft,  and  in  tune  with 
my  condition.  It  was  the  presence  of  this  alien 
woman,  whom  I  must  protect,  but  not  approach, 
that  made  me  realize  that  I  was  thousands  of 
leagues  from  my  own  kind,  and  that  I  must 
depend  on  my  own  judgment  —  with  which  I 
felt  much  out  of  conceit  — to  carry  this  expe 
dition  safely  through  the  barbarous  wilderness. 
I  shook  myself,  and  told  my  men  to  pick  up  their 
paddles. 

But  we  were  to  travel  no  more  toward  the 
southwest  that  night.  My  plan  was  to  turn 
back,  paddle  due  east,  and  reach  the  peninsula 
before  the  late  moonrise.  This  doubling  on  my 
track  was  to  cheat  Pemaou  if  he  were  indeed 
pursuing.  Then  I  was  planning  to  make  the 
peninsula  my  headquarters  for  a  time.  I  had 
left  word  at  the  islands  that  I  was  on  my  way 
to  confer  with  the  Malhominis,  but  I  had  not 
committed  myself  as  to  where  I  should  make 
my  permanent  camp.  I  hoped,  in  this  game  of 
hide  and  seek,  to  shake  off  the  Huron,  and  leave 


I  TAKE  A  NEW  PASSENGER      185 

the  woman  in  safe  hiding  while  I  went  on  my 
mission  from  tribe  to  tribe. 

And  so  I  told  the  men  to  work  with  muffled 
paddles.  I  thought  the  precaution  somewhat  un 
necessary,  but  took  it  as  a  matter  of  form.  Now 
that  I  was  in  action  again,  I  felt  in  command 
of  the  situation.  And  then,  from  some  shadowy 
distance,  I  heard  the  splash  of  a  pursuing  oar. 

I  commanded  silence,  and  we  craned  into  the 
darkness,  and  listened.  We  all  heard  it.  The 
sound  came  as  regularly  as  a  heart-beat,  and  it 
was  no  muffled  stroke.  The  oarsman  was  using 
his  paddle  openly  and  fast.  The  sound  came 
from  behind  us,  a  little  to  the  north,  and,  judging 
from  its  growing  distinctness,  it  was  following 
hard  in  our  track.  There  was  nothing  for  it  but 
a  race.  I  gave  orders. 

The  men  worked  well,  and  we  sped  through 
foaming  water  for  perhaps  a  quarter  hour.  Then 
land  rose  in  front  of  us.  It  shot  up,  all  in  an  in 
stant,  out  of  the  murk,  and  we  had  quick  work 
to  keep  from  grounding  our  canoes.  I  could  see 
no  shore  line  to  north  or  south.  We  had  found 
either  the  end  of  a  promontory  or  a  small  island. 
We  landed  on  a  shelving  beach,  and  lifted  the 
canoes  out  of  danger. 

"Lie  down,"  I  commanded;  and  we  dropped 
on  the  sand,  and  strained  our  ears  for  sound  of 
pursuit. 


186  MONTLIVET 

For  a  time  we  heard  nothing.  Our  burst  of 
speed  had  carried  us  some  distance,  and  I  had 
begun  to  think  that  we  had  shaken  off  our  pur 
suer,  when  again  came  the  beat,  beat,  beat  of 
the  distant  oar.  We  lay  close  as  alligators  on 
a  bank,  and  waited.  The  strokes  came  nearer, 
and  at  last  we  saw  a  sliding  shape.  As  well  as 
we  could  make  out,  there  was  but  one  canoe,  and 
it  was  passing  us  a  little  to  the  northward.  It 
would  miss  the  jut  of  land  where  we  were  hiding, 
and  land  on  the  main  shore  of  the  peninsula. 
We  could  hear  but  one  paddle,  so  judged  that 
there  was  but  one  person  in  the  canoe.  Still  we 
did  not  know. 

It  was  growing  near  moonrise,  and  there  was 
nothing  to  be  done.  I  told  the  men  to  lie  near 
together,  and  sleep  till  I  called  them.  Then  I 
cut  boughs  and  laid  a  couple  of  blankets  on 
them  for  the  woman's  couch.  She  had  sat  quiet 
all  these  hours,  and  now,  as  I  bade  her  good 
night,  she  asked  her  first  question. 

"Are  you  willing  to  tell  me  why  you  fear  pur 
suit,  monsieur?" 

I  hesitated.  "  We  grow  like  animals  in  the  wil 
derness,"  I  parried,  "and  so  suspect  every  sound 
as  coming  from  a  foe." 

"Then  you  do  not  know  who  it  is  in  the 
canoe  ?  " 

I  could  have  answered  "no,"  but  I  would  not. 


I  TAKE  A  NEW  PASSENGER      187 

"Yes,  I  think  that  I  know,"  I  replied.  "I 
think  that  it  is  Pemaou,  a  Huron.  An  Indian 
whom  you  have  never  seen." 

She  read  the  hate  in  my  voice.  "Do  you 
know  what  he  wants,  monsieur  ?  " 

And  now  I  could  answer  truthfully,  and  with 
a  laugh.  "  I  suspect  that  he  wants,  or  has  been 
sent  to  get,  something  that  I  have  determined 
to  keep,  —  at  least  for  the  present,"  I  told  her. 
"Good-night,  madame." 

I  told  my  inner  self  that  I  must  sleep  soundly, 
and  wake  just  before  dawn ;  and  so  that  was  what 
happened.  The  horizon  was  flushing  when  I  rose 
and  looked  around.  My  company  was  asleep. 
The  woman  lay  on  her  bright  blankets,  and  I 
looked  at  her  a  moment  to  make  sure  that  all  was 
well.  She  was  smiling  as  if  her  dreams  were 
pleasant,  and  her  face  wore  such  a  look  of  peace, 
that  I  turned  to  the  east,  ready  to  begin  the  day, 
and  to  thank  God  that  I  had  not  done  everything 
entirely  wrong.  I  took  the  lighter  of  the  canoes, 
carried  it  to  the  water,  and  dipping  a  cautious 
paddle,  crept  off  along  the  shore. 

If  I  wake  in  the  woods  every  dawn  for  a  year, 
I  can  never  grow  stale  to  the  miracle  of  it.  I 
was  on  no  pleasant  errand,  yet  I  could  not  help 
tingling  at  the  cleanness  of  the  air  and  at  the 
smell  of  the  mint  that  our  canoes  had  crushed.  I 
hugged  the  shore  like  a  shadow,  and  rounded  a 


188  MONTLIVET 

little  bend.  It  was  as  I  had  thought.  We  had 
landed  on  the  western  side  of  a  small  island,  and 
before  me,  not  a  quarter  hour's  paddling  away, 
stretched  the  shore  line  of  the  peninsula. 

Here  was  my  risk.  I  paddled  softly  across 
the  open  stretch,  but  that  availed  me  little,  for  I 
was  an  unprotected  target.  I  slanted  my  course 
northward,  and  strained  my  gaze  along  the  shore. 
Yet  I  hardly  expected  to  find  anything.  It  came 
like  a  surprise  when  I  saw  in  advance  of  me  a 
light  canoe  drawn  up  on  the  sand. 

I  landed,  drew  my  own  canoe  to  shelter,  and 
reconnoitred.  I  had  both  knife  and  musket 
ready,  and  I  pulled  myself  over  logs  as  silent  as 
a  snake.  Yet,  cautious  as  I  was,  little  furtive 
rustlings  preceded  me.  The  wood  folks  had  seen 
me  and  were  spreading  the  warning.  Unless 
Pemaou  were  asleep  I  had  little  chance  of  sur 
prising  him.  Yet  I  crept  on  till  I  saw  through 
the  leaves  the  outlines  of  a  brown  figure  on  the 
ground. 

I  stopped.  I  had  been  trying  for  a  good 
many  hours  to  balance  the  right  and  wrong  of 
this  matter  in  my  mind,  and  my  reason  had  in 
sisted  to  my  inclination  that,  if  I  had  opportu 
nity,  I  must  kill  Pemaou  without  warning.  We 
respect  no  code  in  dealing  with  a  rattlesnake, 
and  I  must  use  this  Huron  like  the  vermin  that 
he  was.  So  I  had  taught  myself. 


I  TAKE  A  NEW  PASSENGER      189 

But  now  I  could  not  do  it.  The  blanket- 
wrapped  shape  was  as  unconscious  as  a  child  in 
its  cradle,  and  though  the  wilderness  may  breed 
hardness  of  purpose  it  need  not  teach  butchery. 
I  crept  out  determined  to  scuttle  the  Indian's 
canoe  and  go  away.  If  the  man  waked,  my 
knife  was  ready  to  try  conclusions  with  him  in  a 
fair  field. 

I  suppose  that  I  really  desired  him  to  wake, 
and  that  made  me  careless,  for  just  as  I  bent  to 
the  canoe,  I  let  my  foot  blunder  on  a  twig,  and 
it  cracked  like  shattering  glass.  I  grasped  my 
knife  and  whirled.  The  figure  on  the  ground 
jerked,  threw  off  its  shrouding  blanket,  and 
stretched  up.  It  was  not  Pemaou.  It  was  the 
Ottawa  girl  Singing  Arrow. 

I  did  not  drop  my  knife.  My  thought  was  of 
decoy  and  ambush,  which  was  no  credit  to  me, 
for  this  girl  had  been  faithful  before.  But  we 
train  ourselves  not  to  trust  an  Indian  except  of 
necessity. 

"Are  you  alone?"  I  demanded. 

She  nodded,  pressing  her  lips  together  and 
dimpling.  She  feared  me  as  little  as  a  kitten 
might. 

"  I  came  to  the  Pottawatamie  camp  just  after 
you  left,"  she  volunteered. 

And  then  I  laughed,  laughed  as  I  had  not  done 
in  days.  So  this  was  the  quarry  that  I  had  been 


190  MONTLIVET 

stalking!  I  had  been  under  a  long  tension,  and 
it  was  suddenly  comfortable  to  be  ridiculous.  I 
sat  down  and  laughed  again. 

"Are  you  following  Pierre?"  I  asked,  sober 
ing,  and  trying  to  be  stern. 

But  she  put  her  head  sidewise  and  considered 
me.  She  looked  like  a  squirrel  about  to  crack  a 
nut. 

"A  hare  may  track  a  stag,"  she  announced 
judicially.  "I  have  followed  you.  My  back  is 
bent  like  a  worm  with  the  aching  of  it,  but  I 
came  faster  than  a  man.  I  have  this  for  you," 
and  fumbling  in  her  blouse  she  brought  out  a 
bulky  packet  addressed  with  my  name. 

I  took  it  with  the  marvel  that  a  child  takes  a 
sleight-of-hand  toy  and  stared  at  the  seal. 

"From  Cadillac!  From  the  commandant!" 
I  ejaculated. 

She  nodded.  It  was  her  moment  of  triumph, 
but  she  passed  it  without  outward  show. 

"Read  it.  I  am  sleepy,"  she  said,  and  yawn 
ing  in  my  face  she  tumbled  herself  back  into  the 
blanket  and  closed  her  eyes. 

The  packet  was  well  wrapped  and  secured, 
and  I  dug  my  way  to  the  heart  of  it  and  found 
the  written  pages.  The  letter  began  abruptly. 

"Monsieur,"  it  said,  "I  send  you  strange  tid 
ings  by  a  stranger  messenger.  It  is  new  to  me 
to  trust  petticoats  in  matters  of  secrecy,  but 


I  TAKE  A  NEW  PASSENGER      191 

it  is  rumored  that  you  set  me  the  example,  and 
that  you  carried  off  the  Englishman  dressed  in 
this  Singing  Arrow's  clothes.  The  Indian  her 
self  will  tell  me  nothing.  That  determined  me 
to  trust  her. 

"Briefly,  you  are  followed.  That  fire-eating 
English  lad  that  you  have  with  you  —  I  warrant 
that  he  has  proved  a  porcupine  to  travel  with  — 
must  be  of  some  importance.  At  all  events, 
an  Englishman,  who  gives  his  name  as  Starling, 
has  made  his  way  here  in  pursuit.  He  tells  a 
fair  tale.  He  says  that  the  lad,  who  is  dear  as 
a  brother  to  him,  is  a  cousin,  who  was  captured 
in  an  Indian  raid  on  the  frontier.  As  soon  as 
he,  Starling,  learned  of  the  capture,  he  started 
after  them,  and  he  has  spent  months  searching 
the  wilderness,  as  you  would  sift  the  sand  of 
the  sea.  He  found  the  trail  at  last,  and  followed 
it  here.  He  begs  that  I  send  him  on  to  you 
with  a  convoy. 

"Now  this,  as  you  see,  sounds  very  fair,  and 
part  of  it  I  know  to  be  true.  The  man  is  cer 
tainly  in  earnest  —  about  something,  —  and  has 
spent  great  time  and  endeavor  in  this  search. 
He  has  even  been  to  Quebec,  and  worked  on 
Frontenac's  sympathies,  for  he  bears  from  the 
governor  a  letter  of  safe  conduct  to  me,  and 
another,  from  the  Jesuits,  to  Father  Carheil. 
He  comes  —  apparently  —  on  no  political  mis- 


192  MONTLIVET 

sion;  he  is  alone,  and  his  tale  is  entirely  plau 
sible.  There  is  but  one  course  open  to  me.  I 
must  let  him  go  on. 

"But  I  do  it  with  misgivings.  The  story  is 
fair,  but  I  can  tell  a  fair  story  myself  upon  occa 
sion,  and  there  is  no  great  originality  in  this  one. 
I  remember  that  you  said  after  your  first  inter 
view  with  your  Englishman,  that  you  were  afraid 
he  was  a  spy.  There  is  always  that  danger,  — 
a  danger  that  Frontenac  underestimates  because 
he  has  not  grasped  the  possibilities  that  we  have 
here.  If  both  these  men  should  prove  to  be 
spies,  and  in  collusion —  Well,  they  are  brave 
men,  and  crafty;  it  will  be  the  greater  plea 
sure  to  outwit  them.  I  cannot  overlook  the 
fact  that  the  first  Englishman  was  brought  here 
by  the  Baron's  band  of  Hurons,  and  that  this 
man  selects  his  messengers  from  the  same  dirty 
clan.  I  have  reason  to  think  he  was  in  com 
munication  with  them  before  he  came,  —  which 
is  no  credit  to  a  white  man.  Dubisson,  my 
lieutenant,  tells  me  that  a  Huron  told  his  Indian 
servant  that  pictures  of  the  prisoner  drawn  on 
bark  had  been  scattered  among  the  Indians  for 
a  fortnight  past.  The  story  was  roundabout, 
and  I  could  not  run  it  down.  But  it  makes  me 
watchful. 

"So  this  is  where  we  stand.  I  must  give  this 
man  Starling  a  letter  to  you.  The  letter  will 


I  TAKE  A  NEW  PASSENGER      193 

be  official,  and  will  direct  you  to  deliver  your 
prisoner  into  Starling's  hands.  If  he  finds  you, 
you  have  no  choice  but  to  obey;  so,  if  you  think 
from  your  further  knowledge  of  your  prisoner 
that  it  is  unwise  for  these  two  men  to  meet,  it 
is  your  cue  not  to  be  found.  I  leave  it  with  you. 

"There  is,  of  course,  great  doubt  whether 
this  will  find  you.  You  asked  me  about  Onan- 
guisse,  so  I  infer  that  you  will  stop  at  the  islands 
at  the  mouth  of  La  Baye,  and  I  shall  send  the 
Indian  girl  directly  there.  I  shall  suggest  to 
Starling  that  he  hug  the  coast  line,  and  search 
each  bay,  and  if  he  listens  to  me,  the  girl  should 
reach  you  well  in  advance.  But  it  is  all  guess 
work.  Starling  may  have  spies  among  the  In 
dians,  and  know  exactly  where  you  are.  I  wish  he 
were  out  of  the  way.  Granted  that  his  errand 
is  fair,  he  will  still  see  too  much.  For  all  men, 
in  whatever  state  they  are  born,  lack  neither 
vanity  nor  ambition,  and  this  man  is  accustomed 
to  command.  It  is  a  crack  in  the  dike,  and 
I  do  not  like  it. 

"  But  enough.  I  hear  that  you  trussed  Father 
Blackgown  like  a  pigeon  for  the  spit  the  night  that 
you  went  away.  I  would  have  given  my  best  to 
bacco  box  to  have  seen  it.  There  was  some  excite 
ment  here  over  the  loss  of  the  prisoner,  but  no 
talk  of  pursuit.  Indeed,  the  Hurons  seemed  re 
lieved  to  have  him  spirited  out  of  the  way.  Which 


194  MONTLIVET 

is  odd,  for  they  took  great  pains  to  obtain  him. 
But  I  am  wonted  to  the  unexpected;  it  is  the 
usual  that  finds  me  unprepared.  Even  Father 
Blackgown  surprises  me.  He  has  not  complained 
to  me  of  you,  though  heretofore  I  have  found 
him  as  ready  to  shout  his  wrongs  as  a  crow  in 
a  cornfield.  But  again,  enough. 

"And  I  have  the  honor  to  be,  with  great  re 
spect,  monsieur, 

:'Your  very  obedient  servant, 
"ANTOINE  DE  LA  MOTHE-CADILLAC." 

I  read  the  letter  through  twice.  Then  I 
turned  to  Singing  Arrow.  I  was  glad  she  was 
a  savage.  If  she  had  been  white,  man  or  wo 
man,  I  should  have  been  obliged  to  go  through 
a  long  explanation,  and  I  was  not  in  the  mood 
for  it.  Now  savages  are  content  to  begin  things 
in  the  middle,  and  omit  questions.  It  may  be 
indolence  with  them,  and  it  may  be  philosophy. 
I  have  never  decided  to  my  satisfaction.  But 
the  fact  serves. 

"Do  you  think  that  you  were  followed?"  I 
asked. 

The  girl  sat  up  and  shook  her  head.  "  Only 
by  the  stars  and  the  clouds,"  she  answered. 

I  felt  relieved.  "And  how  did  you  happen 
to  come  this  way?"  I  went  on.  "What  did 
they  tell  you  at  the  Pottawatamie  Islands?" 


I  TAKE  A  NEW  PASSENGER      195 

She  stopped  to  laugh.  "That  you  went  the 
other  way,"  she  replied,  and  she  swept  her  arm 
to  the  southwest. 

I  shrugged  my  shoulders.  "And  you  thought 
I  lied  to  them?" 

She  nodded  her  answer.  "The  bird  who 
hides  her  nest  cries  and  makes  a  great  noise  and 
runs  away  from  it,"  she  explained.  "You  told 
all  the  Pottawatamies  who  would  listen  that  you 
were  going  southwest.  So  I  went  southeast." 

I  could  afford  to  let  her  laugh  at  me.  "We 
stopped  at  that  island  over  there,"  I  said,  with 
out  comment.  "Now  we  will  follow  this  shore 
line  for  a  distance  south.  You  must  go  with  us. 
Singing  Arrow,  did  they  tell  you  at  the  islands 
that  the  English  prisoner  was  a  woman,  and 
that  she  is  now  my  wife?" 

The  girl  did  not  answer  nor  look  in  my  direc 
tion.  She  pulled  her  blanket  over  her  head, 
and  sat  as  stiffly  as  a  badger  above  his  hole. 
I  could  not  determine  whether  the  news  of  the 
marriage  was  a  surprise  or  not.  It  did  not  mat 
ter.  I  lit  my  pipe  and  let  her  work  it  out. 

"  Are  you  coming  ?  "  I  asked  at  last.  "  I  must 
go  back  to  the  island  now." 

She  rose  and  pulled  her  blanket  around  her. 
She  was  typically  Indian  at  the  moment,  un 
readable  and  cold.  But  she  nodded  in  acqui 
escence  and  went  to  her  canoe. 


196  MONTLIVET 

I  found  my  own  canoe  and  we  paddled  side 
by  side.  The  sun  was  over  the  horizon  now 
and  fish  were  jumping.  I  saw  a  great  bass  that 
must  have  weighed  five  pounds  spring  his  whole 
length  out  of  the  water  for  a  fly.  A  sportsman 
in  France  would  have  traveled  leagues  to  have 
seen  such  a  fish,  and  here  it  lay  ready  for  my 
hand.  Perhaps  after  all  there  was  no  need  to 
search  for  reasons  for  the  exultation  that  was 
possessing  me. 

A  few  moments  brought  us  to  the  island,  and 
we  rounded  the  point  and  came  into  the  cove. 
The  little  camp  was  awake  and  startled  by  my 
absence.  Pierre  was  searching  the  horizon  from 
under  a  red,  hairy  hand,  and  Labarthe  was 
looking  to  the  priming  of  his  arquebus.  Only 
the  woman  sat  steadfast.  All  this  I  saw  at  a 
glance. 

I  rushed  the  canoes  to  the  shore,  and  helped 
the  Indian  girl  to  alight  as  I  would  have  helped 
any  woman.  I  gave  one  look  at  the  men,  and 
said,  "  Be  still,"  and  then  I  led  Singing  Arrow  to 
the  woman. 

"  Madame,"  I  said,  "  here  is  the  Indian  girl 
who  befriended  you  when  you  were  a  prisoner. 
It  was  she  who  passed  us  last  night.  She  comes 
to  me  with  documents  from  Cadillac,  and  I  have 
great  reason  to  be  grateful  to  her.  I  commend 
her  to  you,  madame." 


I  TAKE  A  NEW  PASSENGER      197 

I  doubt  that  the  woman  heard  much  of  my 
speech,  though  I  made  it  earnestly.  She  was 
looking  at  the  Indian  girl,  and  the  Indian  girl 
at  her.  I  should  have  liked  cordiality  between 
them,  but  I  did  not  expect  it.  The  woman 
would  do  her  best,  but  she  would  not  know  how. 
I  had  come  to  think  her  gracious  by  nature, 
and  she  would  treat  this  girl  with  courtesy,  but 
she  was  a  great  lady  while  Singing  Arrow  was  a 
squaw,  and  she  would  remember  it.  Yet  Sing 
ing  Arrow,  even  though  she  might  admit  her 
inferiority  to  a  white  man,  would  think  herself 
the  equal  of  any  woman  of  whatever  rank  or 
race.  I  could  not  see  how  the  gulf  could  be 
bridged. 

But  bridged  it  was,  and  that  oddly.  The 
woman  stood  for  a  moment  half  smiling,  and 
then  suddenly  tears  gathered  in  her  eyes.  She 
put  out  her  hand  to  Singing  Arrow,  and  the 
Indian  took  it,  and  they  walked  together  back 
into  the  trees.  They  could  not  understand  each 
other,  and  I  wondered  what  they  would  do.  But 
later  I  heard  them  laughing. 

Well,  the  woman  was  destined  to  surprise  me, 
and  she  had  done  it  again.  I  had  thought  her 
too  finely  woven  and  strong  of  fibre  to  be  easily 
emotional.  It  was  some  hours  before  it  came  to 
me  that  she  had  not  been  with  another  woman 
since  the  night  the  savages  had  found  her  in  the 


198  MONTLIVET 

Connecticut  farmhouse.  All  the  world  had  been 
a  foe  to  be  feared  and  parried  except  myself, 
and  I  had  been  a  despot.  Perhaps  she  did  not 
know  herself.  Perhaps  she  would  welcome  Ben 
jamin  Starling  after  all.  No  matter  what  her 
horror  of  him,  she  could  at  least  be  natural  with 
him,  if  only  to  show  her  scorn. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

THE    STORM 

WE  embarked  in  good  season  that  morning  and 
followed  the  line  of  the  peninsula  in  its  slant 
to  the  southwest.  It  was  a  pleasant  shore,  lime 
stone-scarped  and  tree-bannered,  and  we  pad 
dled  so  near  to  it  that  the  squirrels  scolded  at  us, 
and  a  daisy-spotted  fawn  crashed  through  the 
young  cedars  and  stared  at  us  with  shy  eyes. 
The  birds  were  singing  and  calling  like  maids 
in  a  hayfield,  and  the  woman  sat  with  her  back 
straight  and  her  eyes  laughing,  and  imitated  each 
new  note  as  the  breeze  brought  it  to  her.  She 
did  it  fairly  well,  but  Singing  Arrow  could  have 
done  it  better.  In  my  heart  I  commended  the 
Indian  for  sitting  silent,  for  I  knew  that  the 
vanity  of  her  sex  and  the  inherent  boastfulness 
of  her  savage  blood  must  both  be  whispering  to 
her  that  this  was  the  place  to  show  her  superior 
ity.  But  she  resisted. 

I  had  taken  her  in  the  canoe  with  the  woman 
and  myself,  and  putting  Pierre  in  her  canoe 
had  bidden  him  follow.  I  was  well  satisfied  to 
keep  them  apart  for  a  time.  Yet  no  sister  of 
the  Ursulines  could  have  been  more  exemplary 


200  MONTLIVET 

with  her  glances  than  this  Indian  was  just  then. 
She  sat  like  a  figure  of  destiny  and  watched  the 
woman.  Whether  she  admired  or  not  I  should  not 
know  till  I  saw  whether  she  intended  to  imitate. 

Cadillac's  letter  lay  heavy  in  my  pocket  that 
day  and  disinclined  me  to  speech.  Should  I  show 
it  to  the  woman  and  ask  her  what  she  would  like 
to  do  ?  And  having  asked  her,  should  I  let  her 
preference  warp  my  final  decision  ?  I  was  not 
sure.  The  manner  of  my  life  had  confirmed  me 
in  my  natural  inclination  to  decide  things  for  my 
self  and  take  no  counsel.  And  now  all  my  desires 
called  out  to  me  to  destroy  this  letter  and  say  no 
thing.  Why  should  I  wish  to  meet  Lord  Starling  ? 
And  by  keeping  out  of  the  way  I  should  be  play 
ing  into  Cadillac's  hands  and  therefore  further 
ing  my  own  ends.  Yet  the  woman!  After  all, 
Starling  was  her  cousin.  Had  she  not  the 
right  to  choose  for  herself  whether  she  should  see 
him  ?  My  training  and  instinct  said  no  to  this 
last  question.  Women  were  made  to  be  cared 
for,  at  whatever  cost,  but  not  to  be  taken  into 
confidence  as  to  ways  and  means.  Still  I 
had  entered  into  a  bond  with  this  woman.  I 
breathed  hard.  I  had  always  been  restive  under 
any  bond,  though  by  nature  plodding  enough 
when  it  was  removed.  I  was  aware  that  I  was 
but  sullen  company  while  I  rolled  this  matter 
in  my  mind. 


THE    STORM  201 

The  day  was  warm,  and  by  afternoon  soaring 
pinions  of  cloud  pushed  up  from  the  western 
horizon.  I  watched  their  white  edges  curl  and 
blacken,  and  when  they  began  to  be  laced  with 
red  lightning  I  said  to  the  woman  that  we 
should  have  to  land. 

"  Though  I  hoped  to  make  the  Sturgeon  Cove," 
I  added  idly. 

The  breeze  was  rising,  drawing  sharp  criss 
cross  furrows  on  the  water,  and  I  noticed  how 
it  ruffled  the  woman's  hair;  her  hair  was  like 
her  eyes,  a  warm  red-brown. 

"What  is  Sturgeon  Cove?"  she  asked.  "Is 
it  a  bay,  —  a  larger  one  than  we  have  passed  ?" 

I  took  a  rough  map  from  my  wallet  and 
handed  it  to  her.  "Much  larger,  you  see,"  I 
said.  "It  almost  bisects  the  peninsula.  Only 
the  Sturgeon  portage,  about  a  mile  long,  sepa 
rates  it  from  the  lake  of  the  Illinois.  We  must 
be  near  it  now." 

She  gave  but  a  look  at  the  map,  then  glanced 
at  the  cloud-streaked  west  and  at  the  shore. 

"Try  to  make  it.  Try  to  reach  Sturgeon 
Cove,"  she  urged. 

I  was  thinking  of  something  else,  so  I  an 
swered  her  only  by  a  shake  of  the  head.  Per 
haps  that  angered  her.  At  all  events  she  smote 
her  palms  together  with  a  short,  soft  little  clap, 
such  as  I  use  when  I  call  my  dog. 


202  MONTLIVET 

"I  do  not  wish  to  land  here,"  she  said,  throw 
ing  back  her  head  at  me  quite  as  she  had  done 
when  I  thought  her  a  boy.  "I  wish  to  go  on. 
Why  not?" 

I  motioned  Pierre  to  the  shore.  "  Because  you 
would  get  wet,"  I  answered  stoically. 

She  flushed  as  redly  as  if  I  had  hurt  her. 
"And  if  I  did?"  she  cried.  "Better  discom 
fort  than  this  constant  humiliation.  Monsieur, 
I  refuse  to  be  made  a  burden  of  in  this  fashion. 
It  is  not  fair.  You  made  your  plans  to  reach 
a  certain  point,  and  you  would  go  on,  rain  or 
otherwise,  if  it  were  not  for  me.  For  me,  for 
me,  for  me !  I  am  sick  of  the  sound  of  the  words 
in  my  own  brain.  I  am  sick  of  the  excuse. 
Each  added  sacrifice  you  make  for  me  weighs 
me  like  lead.  It  binds  me.  I  cannot  endure 
the  obligation.  Believe  me,  monsieur." 

I  had  no  choice  but  to  believe  her.  Yet  she 
stopped  with  a  gasp  of  the  breath,  as  if  she  had 
said  too  much,  or  perhaps  too  little,  —  as  if  she 
were  dissatisfied.  Well,  I  had  but  scant  desire 
to  reply.  I  should  have  liked  to  walk  away, 
and  rebelled  in  my  heart  at  our  forced  near 
ness  in  the  canoe.  My  feeling  was  not  new. 
When  I  had  thought  her  a  man  she  had  antago 
nized  me  in  spite  of  my  interest;  as  a  maid  she 
had  troubled  me,  and  now  as  my  wife  I  found 
that  she  had  already  powrer  to  wound.  Still, 


THE    STORM  203 

with  all  rny  inner  heat,  I  could  look  as  it  were 
in  a  mirror  and  understand  her  unhappiness 
and  vexation.  She  was  trying  to  act  towards 
me  with  a  man's  fairness  and  detachment,  but 
each  move  that  I  made  showed  that  I  considered 
her  solely  as  a  woman  and  therefore  an  encum 
brance.  Let  her  act  with  whatever  bravery 
and  wisdom  she  might,  her  sex  still  enmeshed 
us  like  a  silken  trap.  We  could  not  escape 
it.  And  it  was  a  fetter.  Mask  it  as  courteously 
as  I  would,  the  fact  remained  that  it  was  un 
doubtedly  a  fetter.  I  felt  a  certain  compassion 
for  her  and  her  forced  dependence,  and  said  to 
myself  that  I  would  hide  my  own  soreness.  But 
her  words  had  bitten,  and  I  am  not  a  patient 
man. 

I  turned  my  canoe  inland,  and  looked  to  it 
that  the  others  did  the  same.  Then  I  leaned 
toward  her. 

"  No,  we  will  land  here,"  I  said.  "  Madame,  I 
am  frequently  forced  to  look  behind  your  words, 
which  are  sharp,  and  search  for  your  meaning, 
which  is  admirable.  You  resent  being  an  encum 
brance.  May  I  suggest  that  you  will  be  less  one 
if  you  follow  my  plans  without  opposition  ?  I 
mean  no  discourtesy,  madame,  when  I  say  that 
no  successful  expedition  can  have  two  heads  in 
control." 

With  all  her  great  self -discipline  in  some  di- 


204  MONTLIVET 

rections,  she  had  none  in  others,  and  I  braced 
myself  for  her  retort.  But  none  came.  Instead 
she  looked  at  me  almost  wistfully. 

"I  lose  my  temper  when  I  wish  I  did  not,"  she 
said.  "  But  I  should  like  to  help  you,  monsieur." 

I  laid  down  my  paddle.  "Help  is  a  curious 
quantity,"  I  replied.  "  Especially  here  in  the  wil 
derness  where  what  we  say  counts  for  so  lit 
tle  and  what  we  are  for  so  much.  I  think,  —  it 
comes  to  me  now,  —  madame,  you  have  given 
me  strength  more  than  once  when  you  did  not 
suspect  it.  So  you  need  not  try  to  help  me  con 
sciously.  But  now  I  need  your  counsel.  Will 
you  read  this?"  and  I  took  Cadillac's  letter  from 
my  pocket  and  handed  it  to  her. 

She  examined  the  seal  with  amazement  as  I  had 
done,  then  looked  at  Singing  Arrow.  "The  In 
dian  brought  this  ?  It  must  be  very  important. 
Ought  I  —  Is  it  right  for  me  to  see  it,  mon 
sieur  ?" 

I  laughed.  I  looked  off  at  the  piling  thunder- 
caps  and  the  ruffling  water,  and  the  exhilara 
tion  of  the  coming  storm  whipped  through  me. 
There  was  a  pleasant  tang  to  life. 

"  Read  it,  yes,"  I  insisted.  ;<  You  are  Madame 
de  Montlivet.  No  one  can  have  a  better  right. 
Read  it  after  we  land." 

It  took  some  moments  to  make  a  landing,  for 
the  waves  were  already  high  and  the  shore 


THE    STORM  205 

rough.  In  spite  of  ourselves  we  tore  the  canoes  on 
hidden  rocks.  We  unloaded  the  cargo  and  had 
things  snug  and  tidy  by  the  time  the  first  great 
drops  plumped  down  upon  us.  We  worked  like 
ants,  and  I  did  not  look  at  the  woman.  I  knew 
that  she  was  reading  the  letter,  and  I  had  no  wish 
to  spy. 

But  when  I  went  to  her  there  was  no  letter  in 
sight.  I  did  not  stop  to  talk,  but  I  wrapped  her 
in  the  cloak  that  Onanguisse  had  given  her,  and 
wound  her  still  further  with  blankets.  ;'You 
will  be  cool  enough  in  a  few  minutes,"  I  assured 
her,  and  I  made  a  nest  for  her  in  a  thicket  of 
young  pines.  She  obeyed  me  dumbly,  but  with 
a  certain  gentleness,  a  sort  of  submission.  As 
she  gazed  up  at  me  with  her  brown  face  and 
inscrutable  eyes,  my  hands  were  not  quite  steady. 
Heretofore  I  had  felt  her  power;  now  I  felt  only 
her  inexperience,  her  dependence.  Child,  wo 
man,  sphinx!  What  should  I  do  with  her?  I 
turned  away.  The  rain  was  upon  us  in  ear 
nest. 

I  looked  for  my  crew.  The  men  were  curled 
under  trees,  but  Singing  Arrow  had  used  more 
craft.  She  had  hidden  herself  under  her  light 
canoe,  —  which  she  had  first  secured  with  pegs 
that  it  might  not  blow  away,  —  and  she  lay  as 
compact  and  comfortable  as  a  tree-housed  grub. 
I  lifted  the  corner  of  the  canoe  and  peered 


206  MONTLIVET 

at  her,  whereat  she  giggled  happily,  serene  in 
the  thought  that  I  was  wet  while  she  was  dry. 
She  was  as  restful  to  the  brain  as  a  frolicking 
puppy,  and  I  shook  my  head  at  her  to  hear  her 
giggle  again.  I  was  about  to  wonder  whether 
she  had  ever  known  awe  of  anything,  but  just 
then  the  thunder,  which  had  been  merely  growl 
ing,  barked  out  like  a  howitzer  above  us,  and 
she  covered  her  head  and  screamed  like  any  of 
her  sex. 

The  thunder  sent  me  back  to  the  woman.  I 
crept,  wet  as  I  was,  into  her  pine-needled  hollow, 
and  started  to  ask  if  she  were  afraid.  But  the 
question  died  at  sight  of  her.  She  was  propped 
on  her  elbows,  and  had  parted  the  low  boughs 
in  front  of  her  that  she  might  look  out  at  the 
storm.  She  turned  at  sound  of  me,  and  the 
blood  was  in  her  cheeks  as  I  felt  it  in  mine. 

"Come,"  she  cried  with  her  motion. 

I  went  and  lay  close  beside  her,  peering,  as  she 
did,  through  the  trees.  The  world  was  all  wind 
and  red  light  and  churning  water.  I  could  feel 
her  quick  breathing. 

"I  can  hear  the  spirit  of  the  wilderness  cry 
ing,"  she  said  to  me.  The  lightning  played  over 
her  face  and  eyes,  and  they  shone  like  flame. 

I  laid  a  hand  on  her  wet  blankets.  "  Has  the 
rain  soaked  through?" 

But  she  did  not  listen.     The  exultation  in  her 


THE   STORM  207 

look  I  have  seen  sometimes  in  the  face  of  a 
young  priest ;  I  have  also  seen  it  in  a  savage  dan 
cer.  It  is  all  one.  It  is  the  leaping  response  of 
the  soul  to  the  call  of  a  great  freedom.  Storm 
was  summoning  storm.  I  found  the  woman's 
hand,  and  lay  with  it  in  mine. 

She  remembered  me  again  after  a  time. 
"Does  it  call  to  you?"  she  cried. 

I  could  feel  the  blood  racing  in  her  palm. 
"As  it  does  to  you,"  I  answered,  and  I  lay  still, 
and  let  the  storm  riot  in  me,  and  around  me, 
with  her  hand  held  close. 

We  could  not  speak  for  some  time.  The 
thunder  was  constant,  and  the  play  of  the  light 
ning  was  like  the  dazzle  of  a  fencer's  sword. 
Mingled  with  the  thunder  came  the  slap  of  froth 
ing  water  and  the  whine  of  bending  trees.  The 
wind  was  ice  to  the  cheeks. 

At  the  first  lull  the  woman  turned  to  me.  "  If 
you  had  followed  my  wishes  we  should  have  been 
drowned." 

I  nodded.  I  had  no  wish  to  speak.  The 
storm  in  me  was  not  lessening.  I  kept  the  wo 
man's  hand  and  was  swept  on  by  the  tempest. 

And  the  woman,  too,  lay  silent.  I  saw  her 
look  at  me  once,  and  look  away.  And  then,  be 
cause  I  could  think  more  coherently,  it  came  to 
me  that  she  had  changed.  The  change  had 
come  since  she  had  read  Cadillac's  letter.  She 


208  MONTLIVET 

had  said  nothing,  but  she  was  different.  What 
did  it  mean  ?  Was  she  natural  at  last  because 
she  thought  succor  was  near?  I  was  not  ready 
to  know.  The  moments  that  I  had  now  were 
mine.  Ten  minutes  later  they  might,  if  she  de 
creed,  belong  to  Benjamin  Starling. 

The  storm  passed  as  swiftly  as  the  shifting  of 
a  tableau.  The  rain  stopped,  not  lingeringly, 
but  as  if  a  key  had  been  turned,  and  cracks 
came  in  the  clouds  like  clefts  in  black  ice  and 
showed  the  blue  beyond.  In  five  minutes  the  sun 
was  shining.  We  all  crept  out  from  under  trees 
and  canoes,  and  shook  ourselves  like  drenched 
fowls. 

It  was  magic  the  way  the  world  changed.  The 
wind  died,  and  the  sun  shone  low  and  yellow, 
and  a  robin  began  to  sing.  The  water  was  still 
white  and  fretting,  and  the  sand  was  strewn  with 
torn  leaves,  but  otherwise  there  was  peace.  I 
told  Pierre  to  take  one  of  the  men  and  find  dry 
fuel  for  a  fire,  and  Labarthe  to  take  the  other 
and  attend  to  gumming  the  canoes.  Then  I 
went  to  the  woman,  who  had  slipped  dry  and 
red-cheeked  from  her  wrappings,  and  was  walk 
ing  in  the  sun. 

"Well,  Madame  Montlivet,"  I  said,  with  a 
bow,  "what  shall  we  do  about  Monsieur  Cadil 
lac's  letter?" 

There  was  laughter  in  my  voice,  and  it  con- 


THE   STORM  209 

fused  her.  "What  shall  we  do?"  she  echoed 
doubtfully.  "Did  you  mean  to  say  'we'  ?" 

I  bowed  again.  "'We'  assuredly.  It  must 
be  a  joint  decision.  Come,  it  is  for  you  to  de 
clare  your  mind.  Do  we  seek  Lord  Starling, 
do  we  hide  from  him,  or  do  we  stand  still  and 
let  Fate  throw  the  dice  for  us?  What  do  you 
wish,  madame?" 

She  looked  at  me  with  a  little  puzzled  with 
drawal.  "Why  do  you  laugh?"  she  asked. 

I  was  loath  to  vex  her.  But,  indeed,  I  could 
not  check  the  tide  of  joyous  excitement  that  was 
surging  through  me.  "  I  do  not  know  quite  why 
I  laugh,"  I  answered  truly.  "Perhaps  it  is  be 
cause  the  sun  is  shining,  and  because  life  looks 
so  fair  and  rich  and  full  of  possibilities.  But, 
madaine,  we  have  been  tragic  too  long;  it  irks  us 
both.  Tell  me,  now.  It  rests  with  you.  Shall 
we  paddle  northwest  and  search  for  your  cousin, 
Lord  Starling?" 

She  thought  a  moment.      '  You  wish  it  ?" 

"No,  madame." 

She  turned  away.  "  Then  why  ask  me  ?  You 
said  there  could  not  be  two  heads  in  this  com 
mand." 

I  sobered.  "Now  that  was  a  cat's  scratch," 
I  rebuked.  ;' You  have  never  done  that  before." 

The  gentleness  of  her  look  made  me  ashamed. 
''You  are  suspicious  of  me,"  she  said  a  little 


210  MONTLIVET 

sadly.  "That  was  not  a  scratch,  monsieur.  I 
said  what  I  mean ;  I  prefer  to  leave  the  decision 
in  your  hands." 

"But  your  wish?" 

"It  is  confused,  monsieur." 

"But  your  sense  of  justice  in  the  matter?" 

She  was  silent  a  moment,  and  walked  up  and 
down.  "I  have  been  trying  to  see  the  right  ever 
since  I  read  the  letter,"  she  said  quietly.  'This 
is  the  best  answer  I  can  make.  I  think  that  we 
had  better  avoid  meeting  Lord  Starling,  mon 
sieur." 

I  stepped  to  her  side  and  matched  my  pace  to 
hers.  The  robin  had  been  joined  by  his  mate, 
and  they  were  singing.  "Why,  madame?"  I 
asked  her,  and  when  she  was  still  silent  I  per 
sisted.  "Why,  madame?" 

She  lifted  grave  eyes  to  me.  "I  think  it  will 
be  wise  to  keep  Lord  Starling  in  the  wilderness 
as  long  as  possible,"  she  answered.  "If  he  does 
not  find  me  it  may  be  that  he  will  keep  on 
searching.  He  may  not,  —  but  again  he  may. 
On  the  other  hand,  if  he  finds  me  he  will  as 
suredly  go  home." 

"And  if  he  does  go  home?  I  assure  you  the 
wilderness  is  no  sweeter  in  my  eyes  while  he  is 
here." 

She  handed  me  Cadillac's  letter.  "I  think 
that  you  know  what  I  mean,"  she  said.  "Your 


THE   STORM  211 

commandant  is  a  wise  man.  Monsieur,  I  do 
not  understand  Lord  Starling's  purpose  in  this 
journey,  but  I  am  afraid  that  Monsieur  de  la 
Mothe-Cadillac  is  right.  My  cousin  may  be 
treating  secretly  with  the  Indians.  He  is  a  capa 
ble  man,  and  not  easy  to  read.  I  do  not  know 
why  he  should  be  here." 

I  looked  down  at  her.  "But  I  know.  He  is 
here  to  find  you.  Have  you  forgotten  what  I  said 
to  you  yesterday  morning  ?  He  will  not  rest  till 
he  has  found  you.  Ought  we  to  save  him  anxiety  ? 
I  can  understand  that  he  has  suffered." 

But  she  shook  her  head,  and  her  eyes  as  she 
looked  up  at  me  showed  the  deep  sadness  that 
always  seemed,  while  it  lasted,  to  be  too  rooted 
ever  to  be  erased. 

'You  are  an  idealist,  monsieur.  You  believe 
in  man's  constancy  as  I  do  not.  I  cannot  believe 
that  I  am  the  moving  cause  of  Lord  Starling's 
journey.  He  would  undoubtedly  like  to  find  me, 
for  I  am  of  his  house  and  of  use  to  him,  but  he 
has  other  purposes.  Of  that  I  am  sure." 

I  grew  cruel  because  I  was  glad;  there  is  no 
thing  so  ruthless  as  happiness.  "  And  you  would 
thwart  his  purposes,  madame?"  I  cried. 

She  looked  at  me  coldly.  "  I  will  not  be  used 
as  a  tool  against  you,"  she  said. 

"And  that  is  all?" 

"It  is  enough.     I  have  said  this  to  you  many 


212  MONTLIVET 

times.  Why  do  you  make  me  say  it  again  ?  I 
have  undertaken  to  do  something,  and  I  will  carry 
it  through.  I  will  not  lend  myself  to  any  plot 
against  your  interests.  I  will  not.  So  long  as  we 
are  together,  I  will  play  the  game  fair." 

"And  when  we  are  no  longer  together?" 

She  pushed  out  her  hands.  "I  do  not  know. 
I  am  glad  that  you  asked  me  that.  Monsieur, 
if  any  chance  should  free  us  from  each  other,  if 
we  should  reach  Montreal  in  safety,  why,  then, 
I  do  not  know.  I  come  of  an  ambitious  race. 
It  may  be  that  I  shall  use  the  information  that 
I  have.  I  love  my  country  as  you  do  yours,  and 
when  a  woman  has  had  some  beliefs  taken  from 
her  there  is  little  remaining  her  but  ambition. 
So  let  me  know  as  little  as  possible  of  your  plans, 
for  I  may  use  my  knowledge.  I  give  you  warn 
ing,  monsieur." 

The  happiness  in  me  would  not  die,  and  so, 
perhaps,  I  smiled.  She  looked  at  me  keenly. 

'You  think  that  I  am  vaunting  idly,"  she  said. 
"Perhaps  I  am.  I  do  not  know  what  I  shall 
do.  But,  monsieur,  for  your  own  sake  do  not 
underestimate  my  capacity  for  doing  you  harm. 
I  mean  that  as  a  gauge." 

She  stood  against  the  sunset,  and  her  delicate 
height  and  proud  head  showed  like  a  statue's. 
I  stooped  and  lifted  an  imaginary  glove  from  the 
sand. 


THE  STORM  213 

"I  take  your  gauge,"  I  said.  "But  I  find  it  a 
small  and  delicate  gauntlet  for  so  warlike  a  pur 
pose.  May  I  wear  it  next  my  heart,  madame  ?" 

She  looked  at  me  proudly.  "  I  am  serious,"  she 
said. 

"And  I  take  you  seriously,"  I  rejoined.  I 
stepped  to  her  and  let  my  hand  touch  hers. 
;'You  wrong  me.  I  find  that  I  take  you  very 
seriously  indeed.  Believe  me.  But  I  have  al 
ways  lived  in  the  present.  Come,  we  have  been 
grave  long  enough.  Let  us  be  children  and  take 
the  passing  moment.  Madame,  Montreal  is  very 
far  away." 


CHAPTER   XVII 

AFTER   THE   STORM 

WE  slept  at  that  place  that  night,  and  the 
stars  came  out  clear,  and  the  water  on  the  sand 
sang  like  a  harp  played  by  the  wind.  I  slept, 
but  I  dreamed.  I  thought  that  Lord  Starling 
came  to  me,  and  that  the  woman  went  away. 
And  then  the  dream  shifted,  and  I  stood  in  a 
strange,  barren  mist-world,  and  I  was  alone. 
I  saw  the  awful  loneliness  of  creation,  and 
immensity  stretched  around  me.  I  traveled 
through  infinite  spaces  of  void  and  blackness, 
and  found  no  sound  of  voice  or  life,  yet  all  the 
time,  welling  high  within  me,  was  a  tide,  the 
fullness  of  which  I  had  never  known  in  my 
waking  hours.  All  the  strength  that  I  had 
hoarded,  all  the  desire  for  love  that  I  had  pushed 
aside,  all  of  the  fierce  commotions  of  unrest  that 
mark  us  from  the  brute,  stirred  in  me  till  I  felt 
as  if  I  were  suffocating,  and  cried  out  for  a  help 
ing  hand.  But  I  was  alone,  and  gray  wastes  sur 
rounded  me,  and  my  surge  of  feeling  beat  itself 
out  against  desolation.  I  woke  with  sweat  on  my 
forehead. 

I  woke  to  a  black  night.     The  stars  looked 


AFTER  THE  STORM  215 

cold,  and  the  men  beside  me  lay  as  if  dead.  I 
looked  up  and  watched  the  roll  of  the  planets. 
The  mystery  of  infinity  which  lies  naked  at  mid 
night  in  the  wilderness  drives  some  men  mad. 
Heretofore  I  had  been  untouched  by  it  except 
with  delight.  Now  I  crept  cautiously  to  my  feet 
and  went  softly  to  the  woman. 

I  know  that  I  stepped  without  sound,  but  as 
I  stood  for  a  moment  looking  down  at  the  couch 
of  boughs  where  she  lay  I  heard  a  guarded  whis 
per. 

"Monsieur,  monsieur." 

I  bent  over  her.  Her  eyes  were  not  only  open, 
but  wakeful,  and  her  small  face  looked  white 
against  the  dark  blanket. 

"What  is  it,  monsieur?"  she  whispered. 

I  knelt  that  I  might  answer  softly.  "I  woke, 
and  thought  you  were  in  danger.  I  came  to  look 
at  you  and  be  sure  that  all  was  well.  You  do  not 
sleep,  madame?" 

She  shook  her  head.  "  I  slept,  but  I  dreamed. 
And  you,  monsieur?" 

"I,  too,  have  dreamed." 

I  thought  that  she  smiled  at  me,  though  her 
face,  when  I  leaned  to  see  it  clearly,  blurred  into 
the  dark. 

"Will  you  sleep  the  rest  of  the  night  within 
sound  of  my  voice?"  she  asked,  with  a  little 
tremble  in  her  whisper.  "The  wilderness  to- 


216  MONTLIVET 

night  is  like  that  storm.  Its  greatness  terri 
fies  me.  Do  you  think  that  all  is  well,  mon 
sieur?" 

I  was  glad  that  she  could  not  see  my  face. 
"Yes,  I  think  that  all  is  very  well,"  I  answered. 
"  Blessedly  well.  Sleep,  now,  madame.  I  shall 
stay  here,  and  your  whisper  would  wake  me.  Is 
there  terror  in  the  wilderness  now  ?" 

Again  she  shook  her  head.  "No,"  she  whis 
pered. 

I  lay  beside  her  couch  and  cushioned  my 
head  in  my  arm.  I  had  answered  her  truly. 
All  was  very  well  with  me,  for  at  last  I  saw 
clearly;  I  knew  myself.  The  dream,  the  night, 
and  something  that  I  could  not  name,  had 
stripped  me  naked  to  my  own  understanding. 
I  felt  as  if,  man  that  I  had  thought  myself,  I 
had  played  with  toys  until  this  moment,  and 
that  now,  for  the  first  time,  I  was  conscious  of 
my  full  power  for  joy  or  suffering.  I  looked  up 
through  the  star  spaces  and  was  grateful  for 
knowledge,  for  knowledge  even  if  it  brought 
pain. 

I  had  not  lain  this  way  long  when  I  heard  her 
stir. 

"Monsieur,"  came  her  whisper. 

I  lifted  myself  to  my  knees.  ''Yes,  ma- 
dame." 

"You  were  not  asleep?" 


AFTER  THE  STORM  217 

"  No,  madame." 

"  Monsieur,  I  was  loath  to  disturb  you,  but  I 
cannot  sleep.  Tell  me.  Suppose  that  Lord 
Starling  should  find  us.  Will  he  have  power  to 
take  me?  " 

"Away  from  your  husband?  How  could  he, 
madame?" 

She  stirred,  and  turned  her  face  from  me, 
even  though  I  could  not  see  it  in  the  dark. 

"  But  he  has  a  warrant,"  she  whispered.  "  The 
letter  said  that  you  must  deliver  me  to  my  cousin 
if  we  were  found.  What  will  be  done  with  you, 
monsieur,  if  you  refuse  to  obey  ?  " 

Then  I  bent  close  and  let  her  hear  me  laugh 
softly. 

"I  know  of  no  warrant  that  applies  to  you," 
I  murmured.  "Cadillac's  letter  mentioned  an 
Englishman.  I  know  of  none  such.  I  travel 
with  a  woman,  my  wife,  and  commandants  have 
naught  to  do  with  us.  Was  that  what  was  trou 
bling  you,  madame?" 

She  bowed,  and  her  breath  came  unevenly. 
Her  right  hand  lay  outside  the  blanket,  and  I 
bent  and  touched  it  with  my  lips. 

"How  you  hate  Lord  Starling!  How  you 
hate  him!"  I  whispered.  "I  wonder,  can  you 
love  as  singly  ?  Can  you  love  with  as  little  care 
for  self  and  comfort  and  for  all  the  fat  conven 
iences  of  life  ?  Madame,  you  are  a  willful  child 


218  MONTLIVET 

to  lie  here  and  tilt  at  shadows  when  you  should 
be  garnering  strength  by  sleep.  I  promised  you 
my  sword  and  my  name,  and  I  agreed  that  they 
should  both  be  yours  till  of  your  own  wish  you 
should  send  me  away.  Had  you  forgotten  that 
I  promised  ?  I  had  not." 

I  had  slipped  to  my  knees  again  and  rested 
with  my  forehead  on  her  hand.  I  could  feel  her 
other  hand  stray  toward  me. 

"No,"  she  whispered.  "No,  I  had  not  for 
gotten,  but  the  dark  and  a  sudden  loneliness 
made  me  a  coward.  Thank  you.  It  is  over 
now  and  I  will  sleep.  Monsieur,  my  partner,  I 
will  say  good-night,  and  this  time  I  will  not  call 
you." 

But  I  rested  a  moment  longer  on  my  knees 
with  my  head  against  her  palm.  Then  I 
rose. 

"Partners,  perhaps,"  I  said  softly.  'Yet 
more  than  that.  Madame,  are  we  not  like  pil 
grims  groping  our  way  together  on  a  dark  road  ? 
We  cannot  see  far  ahead,  but  there  is  a  light 
in  the  distance.  I  think  that  we  shall  reach 
it.  Good-night.  We  shall  both  sleep  nowT,  ma- 
dame." 

But  she  slept  and  I  did  not.  It  was  nearly 
day  when  I  closed  my  eyes  again,  yet  I  did  not 
find  the  moments  long. 

The  next  morning  was   quiet    and   the   sky 


AFTER  THE  STORM  219 

clear.  I  had  read  my  maps  rightly,  and  once 
embarked,  an  hour  of  paddling  brought  us  to 
Sturgeon  Cove.  It  opened  before  us  suddenly, 
a  wedge  of  flecked  turquoise  laid  across  the 
shaded  greens  of  the  peninsula.  As  we  entered 
it  a  flock  of  white  gulls  rose  from  the  rocky 
shore  and  flew  before  us.  The  air,  rain  washed, 
was  so  limpid  that  it  seemed  a  marvel  that  it 
could  sustain  the  heavy-pinioned  birds,  but  they 
moved  in  sure  curves  and  seemed  to  bear  us 
with  them.  I  pointed  the  woman's  glance 
toward  them. 

"An  omen.  We  shall  follow  them  and  rest 
here.  It  is  our  home." 

We  nosed  our  way,  with  leisurely  paddles, 
close  to  the  northern  shore.  The  land  sloped 
gently  from  the  beach,  and  the  quivering  water, 
a  faded  green  from  the  tree  shadows,  crawled 
over  gravel  that  was  patterned  with  the  white 
of  quartz  and  with  the  pomegranate  of  car- 
nelian.  It  was  a  jeweled  pavement,  and  it  led 
to  forest  aisles  where  cathedral  lights  splashed 
through  the  trees.  But  I  would  not  stop.  The 
gulls  were  still  leading. 

The  bay  narrowed,  and  the  shores  pressed 
close  to  us,  with  compact  ranks  of  cedars  held 
spearwise.  Yet  we  pushed  on,  and  the  water 
path  spread  out  once  more,  a  final  widening. 
We  saw  before  us  the  rounded  end  of  the  bay, 


220  MONTLIVET 

and  the  neck  of  land  that  formed  the  Sturgeon 
portage.  The  woman  looked  at  me. 

"What  now,  monsieur?" 

But  I  smiled  at  her  with  my  conceit  untrou 
bled.  I  had  seen  reeds  close  to  the  northern  shore. 
"Halt!"  I  cried  to  the  canoes. 

We  lay  quiet  a  moment,  and  the  birds  glan 
cing  back  at  us  found  us  suddenly  harmless. 
The  reeds  under  them  were  swarming  with 
young  fish.  The  gulls  looked  down  and 
squawked  in  a  hungry  chorus.  In  a  moment 
they  lighted,  balancing  their  great  wings  like 
reefing  sails. 

I  laughed  as  I  looked  at  the  woman.  It  was 
a  small  triumph,  but  intoxication  breeds  easy 
laughter.  I  had  been  drinking  deep  that  morn 
ing  of  a  sparkling  happiness  more  disturbing  than 
any  wine. 

We  sent  the  canoes  shoreward  into  the  curve 
where  the  reeds  lay.  The  stiff  green  withes 
rattled  against  our  canoes  like  hail,  and  gave 
warning  of  our  approach  for  a  half  mile  distant. 
I  nodded  my  inner  approval. 

"The  gulls  are  wise,"  I  said  to  the  woman. 
"We  could  not  plan  a  better  water  defense  to  our 
camp." 

The  grass  came  down  to  the  water,  arid  we 
pulled  the  canoes  over  short  turf  and  into  beds 
of  white  blossoms.  A  cloud  of  butterflies  rose 


AFTER  THE  STORM 

to  greet  us ;  they  too  were  satin-white,  the  color 
that  a  bride  should  wear,  and  they  fluttered  over 
us  without  fear.  The  smell  of  the  grasses  rose 
like  incense.  With  all  the  light  and  perfume 
there  was  a  sense  of  quiet,  of  deep  content  and 
peace.  Even  the  woods  that  fringed  the  meadow 
seemed  kindly.  They  did  not  have  the  som 
bre  awe  of  the  heavy  timber,  but  looked  sun 
drenched  and  gay. 

"We  shall  stay  here,"  I  said.  "Unload  the 
canoes." 

Five  men  with  good  sinews,  some  understand 
ing,  and  well-sharpened  axe  blades,  can  make  a 
great  change  in  the  forest  in  one  day.  When  the 
sunset  found  us  I  had  a  fortified  house  built  for 
my  wife.  It  was  framed  of  fragrant  pine,  and 
occupied  the  extremity  of  a  spit  of  land  that  lay 
next  the  meadow.  Its  door  opened  on  the  water, 
and  I  made  the  opening  wide  so  that  the  stars 
might  look  in  at  night.  All  about  the  sides  and 
rear  of  the  house  were  laid  boughs,  one  upon 
another,  and  on  the  top  of  this  barricade  was 
stretched  a  long  cord  threaded  with  hawk's  bells. 
The  lodges  for  myself  and  the  men  we  placed  in 
the  rear,  and  behind  them  we  laid  still  another 
wall  of  brush  to  separate  us  from  the  forest.  I 
was  satisfied  with  the  defenses.  With  the  reeds 
in  front  and  the  brush  behind,  any  intruder 
would  sound  his  own  alarm. 


222  MONTLIVET 

The  woman  took  Singing  Arrow  and  went  to 
her  house  early  that  night,  but  I  sat  late  over  my 
charts  and  journal.  I  had  much  to  study  and 
more  to  plan. 

Yet  I  was  abroad  the  next  morning  while  the 
stars  were  still  reflected  in  the  bay.  Labarthe 
was  with  me,  and  we  took  Singing  Arrow's  light 
canoe  and  packed  it  with  supplies  and  merchan 
dise.  Then  we  breakfasted  on  meal  and  jerked 
meat  and  were  ready  to  start. 

But  the  rest  of  the  men  were  not  yet  astir,  and 
the  woman's  house  was  silent.  I  walked  to  it 
and  stood  irresolute.  I  disliked  to  wTake  her. 
Yet  I  could  not  leave  her  without  some  message. 
But  while  I  pondered  I  heard  her  step  behind 
me.  She  came  up  from  the  water,  and  she 
looked  all  vigor  and  morning  gladness. 

"Why  the  canoe  so  early?"  she  called.  "Do 
we  have  fish  for  breakfast?" 

I  took  her  hand.  "Come  with  me  to  the 
water."  I  led  her  to  the  canoe  and  pointed  out 
the  bales  of  supplies.  '  You  see  we  are  ready  for 
work.  We  shall  be  back  in  a  few  days." 

She  dropped  my  hand.  "Then  why  did  you 
build  that  house?" 

"Why  not,  madame?" 

"But  you  say  that  we  are  to  go  this  morn- 
ing." 

"I  must  go,  madame." 


AFTER  THE  STORM  223 

"And  you  intend  to  leave  me  here  ?" 

"Why,  yes,  madame." 

"But  you  said  'we.'" 

I  looked  some  amazement.  "I  take  Labarthe 
with  me.  I  leave  three  men  with  you  on  guard. 
There  is  nothing  to  fear." 

And  then  she  threw  back  her  head.  "I  do 
not  think  that  I  am  afraid,"  she  said  more 
quietly.  "But  —  I  was  not  prepared  for  this. 
It  had  not  occurred  to  me  that  you  would  go 
away." 

I  stopped  a  moment.  "I  do  not  go  for  plea 
sure.  Indeed,  I  cannot  imagine  a  fairer  spot  in 
which  to  linger  and  forget  the  world.  But  did 
you  think  that  I  would  sit  in  idleness,  ma- 
dame?" 

She  looked  down.  "I  do  not  know  that  I 
thought  at  all  about  it.  It  has  gone  on  like  a 
play,  a  dream.  Perhaps  I  thought  it  would  con 
tinue.  Your  plan  is  to  travel  from  tribe  to  tribe, 
and  come  back  here  at  intervals  ?" 

"That  is  my  plan.  I  shall  buy  furs  and 
cache  them  here.  I  shall  try  not  to  be  away 
more  than  a  week  at  a  time.  I  regret  that  I  sur 
prised  you.  I  did  not  think  but  that  you  under 
stood." 

She  stood  biting  her  lips  and  smiling  to  her 
self  in  half-satiric,  half -whimsical  fashion.  "It 
says  little  for  my  intelligence  that  I  was  unpre- 


224  MONTLIVET 

pared.  You  are  a  man,  not  a  courtier.  I  should 
have  known  that  you  would  not  waste  an  hour. 
I  wish  that  I  might  go  with  you." 

"Madame,  I  wish  it,  too." 

She  looked  up  more  briskly.  "  But  that  would 
be  impossible.  Have  you  instructions  for  me, 
monsieur?" 

"Madame,  if  you  are  afraid,  come  with  me." 

"  I  am  not  afraid  if  you  say  that  it  is  safe, 
monsieur." 

"Thank  you,  madame.  I  think  that  it  is  en 
tirely  safe.  Pierre  is  a  good  deal  of  a  fool  and 
more  of  a  knave,  but  in  some  few  respects  there 
is  no  one  like  him;  he  is  a  rock.  You  are  my 
wife  and  in  his  charge.  He  will  guard  you  abso 
lutely." 

"Are  we  in  danger  of  attack?" 

"  I  can  imagine  no  possible  reason  for  attack, 
else  I  should  not  leave  you.  The  Indians 
are  friendly.  One  thing  troubles  me.  Your 
cousin  -  Should  ' 

She  looked  up.  "Should  Lord  Starling  find 
me?"  she  completed.  "Well,  he  would  tarry 
here  until  you  came.  He  would  at  least  show 
that  courtesy.  I  can  promise  as  much  as  that 
for  the  family  name,  monsieur." 

I  smiled  at  her.  "I  shall  await  the  meeting," 
I  said  with  unction.  I  motioned  Labarthe  to  the 
paddle,  and  I  kissed  the  woman's  hand. 


AFTER  THE  STORM  225 

"I  salute  your  courage.  I  shall  see  you  within 
the  week,  madame." 

She  looked  straight  at  me.  "  And  until  then, 
good  fortune." 

But  I  paused.  "  Wish  me  opportunity.  That 
is  all  that  I  ask  from  you  or  of  you,  — oppor 
tunity.  Good-by  for  a  week,  madame." 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

IN   WHICH   I   USE    OPPORTUNITY 

I  SQUATTED  beside  many  camp  fires  in  the  next 
week.  I  sat  in  the  flattened  cones  of  the  Chip- 
pewas'  tepees  and  smoked  innumerable  pipes  of 
rank  tobacco  with  the  old  men.  I  traded  some, 
but  talked  more,  and  at  the  end  of  the  week  I 
started  home.  I  waited  for  a  pleasant  day  and  a 
westerly  wind,  for  the  small  canoe  was  perilously 
laden  with  skins.  There  was  scarcely  room  for 
Labarthe  and  myself  to  crowd  down  on  our  knees 
and  use  our  paddles. 

We  slipped  into  Sturgeon  Cove  late  in  the  after 
noon,  and  swept  with  the  wind  up  the  stretches 
of  the  bay  to  the  camping  ground.  Summer 
was  at  flood  tide,  and  the  air  was  pungent  and 
the  leaves  shining.  The  sunset  shone  through 
tattered  ends  of  cloud,  so  that  the  west  was  hung 
with  crimson  banners.  It  was  my  first  home 
coming. 

Before  we  reached  the  camp  I  saw  the  wo 
man.  She  had  strayed  down  the  shore  to  the 
west,  —  too  far  for  safety,  I  thought,  —  and  was 
standing  alone  on  the  sand,  looking  toward  the 
sunset.  Her  head  was  back,  and  her  arms  flung 


I  USE  OPPORTUNITY  227 

out  to  the  woods  and  the  shining  sky.  I  have 
sometimes  found  myself  stretching  my  own  arms 
in  just  that  fashion  when  I  have  been  alone  and 
have  felt  something  pressing  within  me  that  was 
too  large  for  speech.  I  motioned  Labarthe  to 
ship  his  paddle  that  I  might  look.  The  west 
ern  glow  was  full  upon  the  woman,  and  her  lips 
were  parted.  The  open  sleeves  of  her  skin 
blouse  fell  away  from  her  arms,  which  had  grown 
gently  rounded  since  I  saw  her  first.  I  could 
not  see  her  eyes,  but  she  looked  somewhere  off 
into  the  untraveled  west,  —  the  west  that  was  the 
portal  of  my  enterprise.  What  was  her  thought  ? 
I  must  not  let  myself  trap  it  unaware.  I  gave  a 
long,  low  call ;  the  call  of  the  loon  as  he  skirts 
the  marshes  in  the  twilight. 

She  turned  instantly  and  saw  us.  I  bent  for 
ward.  The  drabbled  plume  of  my  hat  swept 
the  water,  and  I  heard  Labarthe  curse  under  his 
breath,  and  beg  me  remember  that  the  canoe 
was  laden.  But  just  then  I  had  no  caution  in 
me. 

The  woman's  arms  dropped.  She  had  a  mo 
ment  of  indecision,  and  she  stood  looking  at  me 
with  the  sunset  in  her  face  and  eyes.  Then 
she  suddenly  thrust  out  both  hands  towards  me 
across  the  stretch  of  water.  I  could  see  her 
smooth-skinned  brown  fingers,  and  one  wore  my 
ring.  She  bade  me  welcome.  I  bent  to  my  pad- 


228  MONTLIVET 

die,  and  would  have  crashed  the  canoe  up  to  the 
shore. 

But  she  forestalled  me.  She  was  already  on 
her  way  back  to  the  camp,  and  if  she  knew  that 
I  had  started  toward  her  she  did  not  let  me  see. 
So  I  had,  perforce,  to  follow.  She  walked  with 
the  free,  gliding  step  of  a  woman  whose  foot  had 
been  trained  on  polished  surfaces.  I  watched 
her,  and  let  Labarthe  paddle  our  way  through  the 
reeds. 

We  reached  the  camp,  deafened  by  Pierre's 
bellow  of  greeting.  The  woman  had  kept  pace 
with  us,  and  stood  waiting  for  us  to  disembark. 
She  was  breathing  quickly  and  the  blood  was  in 
her  brown  cheeks;  her  great  eyes  were  frankly 
opened  and  shining.  I  pushed  by  the  men  and 
bent  to  kiss  her  hand. 

"  Madame,  thank  you  for  my  welcome  home." 

She  bowed,  and  I  caught  the  perfume  of  a 
rose  on  her  breast.  "Monsieur,  we  are  all  re 
joiced  to  see  you  safe."  Her  tone  took,  half- 
whimsically,  the  note  of  court  and  compliment. 
The  fingers  that  I  still  held  were  berry  stained. 
She  showed  them  to  me  with  a  laugh  and  a  light 
word,  and  so  made  excuse  to  draw  them  away. 
Her  hair  had  grown  long  enough  to  blow  into 
her  eyes,  and  she  smoothed  a  soft  loose  wave  of 
it  as  she  questioned  me  about  my  voyage. 

I  was  new  to  the  wonder  of  seeing  her  there,  so 


I  USE  OPPORTUNITY  229 

answered  her  stupidly.  For  all  my  day-dreams 
of  the  week  that  I  had  been  away  I  was  not 
prepared  for  her.  And  indeed  she  had  altered. 
The  strain  of  fear  and  incessant  watchfulness  was 
removed,  and  with  the  lessening  of  that  tension 
had  come  a  pliancy  of  look  and  gesture,  a  rich 
ness  of  tone  that  found  me  unprepared.  I  made 
but  a  poor  figure.  It  was  as  well  that  work  clam 
ored  at  me,  and  that  I  had  to  turn  away  and  direct 
the  men. 

We  ate  our  supper  at  the  time  of  the  last 
daylight,  and  the  whippoorwills  were  calling  and 
the  water  singing  in  the  reeds.  It  was  a  silent 
meal,  but  I  sat  beside  the  woman,  and  when  it 
was  over  I  drew  her  with  me  to  the  shore.  It  was 
very  still.  Fireflies  danced  in  the  grasses,  and  the 
stars  pricked  out  mistily  through  a  gauze  of  cloud. 
I  wrapped  the  woman  in  her  fur  coat,  and  bade 
her  sit,  while  I  stretched  myself  at  her  feet.  Then 
I  turned  to  her. 

"  Madame,  have  you  questions  for  me  that  you 
did  not  wish  the  men  to  hear  ?  " 

She  sat  very  quietly,  but  I  knew  that  her  hand, 
which  was  within  touch  of  mine,  grew  suddenly 
rigid. 

"  Monsieur,  you  heard  nothing  of  Lord  Star- 
ling?" 

I  touched  her  hand  lightly.  "Nothing,  ma- 
dame.  I  have  no  news." 


230  MONTLIVET 

"Then  matters  stand  just  as  they  did  a  week 
ago?" 

I  hesitated.  "  As  concerns  Lord  Starling,  yes. 
As  concerns  ourselves —  Madame,  I  carry  a 
lighter  heart  than  I  did.  All  this  week  I  have 
feared  that  you  were  fretting  at  the  loneliness 
and  the  rough  surroundings.  But  I  find  you 
serene  and  the  surface  of  life  smooth.  It  is  a 
gallant  spirit  that  you  bring  to  this  situation.  I 
thank  you,  madame." 

She  did  not  speak  for  a  moment,  so  that 
I  wondered  if  I  had  vexed  her.  I  looked  up 
straight  into  her  great  eyes  that  were  full  on 
me,  and  there  was  something  disquietingly  alight 
in  her  glance,  a  flicker  of  that  lightning  that 
had  played  between  us  on  the  day  of  the 
storm. 

"Monsieur!"  she  cried,  with  a  little  sobbing 
laugh.  "  I  beg  you  never  to  thank  me  —  for 
anything.  The  stream  of  gratitude  must  always 
run  from  me  to  you.  I  have  not  been  serene 
because  of  any  will  of  mine.  It  has  been  in 
stinctive.  I  can  sometimes  carry  out  a  fixed 
purpose,  but  I  do  it  stiffly,  inflexibly,  not  as  you 
do,  with  a  laugh  and  a  shrug,  monsieur.  No, 
no!  My  serenity  has  not  been  calculated.  I 
have  been  -  -  I  have  been  almost  happy.  It  is 
strange,  but  it  is  true." 

I  drew  my  hand  away  from  her  finger  tips,  for 


I  USE  OPPORTUNITY  231 

my  own  were  shaking.  "  Madame,  what  makes 
you  happy?" 

She  looked  down  at  me  with  frank  serious 
ness,  but  her  eyes  still  kept  their  sweet,  strange 
brightness ;  she  pressed  her  palms  together  as  she 
always  did  when  much  in  earnest. 

"Monsieur,  is  it  so  strange  after  all?  Think 
of  the  wonder  of  what  I  see  about  me!  The 
great  stars,  the  dawns,  and  the  strange  waters 
that  go  no  one  knows  where.  I  have  lived  all 
my  life  in  courts  and  have  not  felt  trammeled  by 
them,  but  now  —  Monsieur,  there  is  a  freedom, 
yes,  and  a  happiness  stirring  in  me  that  I  have 
not  known.  I  wonder  if  you  understand  ?  ' 

I  watched  the  starlight  draw  elfin  lines  across 
her  face,  and  my  heart  suddenly  cried  through 
my  tongue  words  that  my  brain  would  have  for 
bidden. 

"I  understand  this  at  least.  Madame,  you 
talk  of  happiness.  I  am  finding  happiness  at 
this  moment  that  I  never  felt  at  court,  —  no,  nor 
in  the  wilderness  till  now." 

She  did  not  draw  back  nor  protest,  but  she 
looked  at  me  with  wistful  gravity. 

"  Monsieur  -       Monsieur  " 

"I  am  your  servant,  madame." 

She  halted.  'This  is  a  masque,  a  comedy," 
she  stumbled.  "This  —  this  life  in  the  green 
wood.  Does  it  not  seem  a  fantasy?" 


232  MONTLIVET 

"You  seem  very  real  to  me,  madame." 

"Monsieur,  I  tell  you,  it  is  a  masque.  Will 
you  not  help  me  play  it  as  such  ?" 

"You  treat  it  as  a  masque  in  your  own  heart, 
madame?" 

She  turned  her  face  into  the  shadow.  "  I  eat, 
I  sleep,  I  laugh  with  the  birds,  and  I  play  with 
Singing  Arrow.  I  do  not  look  ahead."  She  rose. 
"Play  with  me.  Play  it  is  a  dream,  monsieur." 

I  rose  and  stepped  beside  her  toward  her 
cabin.  "  I  am  a  man,"  I  said,  with  a  short  laugh 
of  my  own.  "  I  cannot  spin  words  nor  cheat  my 
self.  But  I  shall  not  distress  you.  Do  not  fear 
me,  madame." 

But  her  step  lingered,      'You  leave  us  soon  ?" 

"At  dawn  to-morrow." 

"Monsieur!     And  you  go" 

"To  the  Winnebagoes.  I  shall  return  in  a 
week." 

She  clasped  her  hands  behind  her  as  if  her 
white  cloak  bound  her.  'To  the  Winnebagoes, 
-  to  another  tribe  of  Indians !  Are  you  sure 
that  they  are  friendly?  I  forget  that  there  are 
Indians  in  the  forest,  since  I  see  none  here.  Ah, 
you  must  sleep  now  if  you  are  to  rise  so  early. 
Good-night,  and  —  thank  you,  monsieur.  Good 
night."  I  had  hardly  bowed  to  her  in  turn  be 
fore  her  long  light  step  had  brought  her  to  her 
door. 


I  USE  OPPORTUNITY  233 

And  then  I  went  back  to  work.  The  furs  had 
been  sorted,  labeled,  and  cached ;  the  canoe  had 
been  dried,  and  its  splints  examined  and  new 
bales  of  merchandise  had  been  made  up  for  the 
trip  on  the  morrow.  But  there  remained  much 
writing  and  figuring  to  be  gone  over.  It  seemed 
as  if  I  had  but  closed  my  eyes  when  Labarthe 
touched  me  on  the  shoulder  and  told  me  it  was 
dawn. 

And  out  in  the  dawn  I  found  the  woman.  She 
had  seen  to  it  that  the  whole  camp  was  astir,  and 
the  fire  was  crackling  and  the  kettle  already  puff 
ing  steam.  The  morning  was  austere  and  gray- 
veiled,  so  that  the  red  blaze  was  like  the  cheer 
of  home.  We  ate  with  laughter,  and  sleepy  birds 
scolded  in  the  thickets.  The  woman  sparkled 
with  dainty  merriment  that  held  my  thanks  at  bay. 
It  was  only  when  she  waved  her  adieus  at  the 
beach  that  she  dropped  her  foils. 

"I  shall  pray  for  fair  winds,  monsieur,"  she 
called. 

I  looked  back  at  her  across  the  widening  water. 
"  Madame,  can  you  hear  me  ?  The  wind  I  pray 
for  will  blow  me  back  to  you.' 

Metaphor  aside,  it  was  a  favorable  day  and 
the  breeze  was  with  us.  We  pushed  up  a  tar 
paulin  on  our  paddles  for  a  square  sail,  and  cov 
ered  the  distance  to  the  west  shore  of  La  Baye 
in  a  few  hours.  Before  night  we  were  lifting 


234  MONTLIVET 

the  rush  mats  that  hung  before  the  reed-thatched 
lodges  of  the  Winnebagoes. 

And  here  for  seven  days  I  plied  my  trade.  A 
man  has  many  coats  and  all  may  fit  him.  The 
one  that  I  wore  in  those  days  showed  the  bells 
and  ribands  of  the  harlequin,  but  there  was  chain 
armor  underneath.  I  counted  my  results  as  sat 
isfactory  when  I  started  home. 

We  did  not  reach  the  camp  on  this  second 
homecoming  till  after  the  stars  were  out.  That 
left  me  too  few  hours  for  a  large  labor,  and  I 
had  but  hurried  greetings  from  the  woman  while 
all  the  camp  looked  on.  The  men  were  sleek 
from  idleness,  and  I  had  need  to  goad  them  with 
word  and  eye.  It  was  late  before  I  could  linger 
at  the  woman's  cabin  and  beg  a  word.  She  sat 
with  Singing  Arrow,  watching  the  soft  night,  and 
again  her  first  question  was  of  her  cousin. 

'You  have  heard  nothing  of  Lord  Star- 
ling?" 

Was  this  fear  of  him  or  a  covert  wish  to  meet 
him?  "Nothing,  madame,"  I  replied.  "But  I 
have  been  to  the  south  far  out  of  your  cousin's 
way.  I  go  next  to  the  Malhominis.  I  think  I 
shall  certainly  hear  tidings  of  him  there." 

'You  go  to-morrow?" 

"  I  must,  madame.  Madame,  I  have  been  anx 
ious  about  you.  Will  you  promise  me  not  to 
stray  alone  from  the  camp?" 


I  USE  OPPORTUNITY  235 

She  left  the  cabin  and  came  and  stood  beside 
me  in  the  quiet  and  starshine.  She  looked  off 
at  the  forest. 

"Is  there  danger  around  us,  monsieur?" 

I  followed  her  look  back  into  the  dark  timber. 
We  both  hushed  our  breathing  till  we  heard  the 
moan  of  the  water  and  the  lament  of  some 
strange  night  bird.  The  woman  was  so  small, 
and  yet  I  left  her  in  the  wilderness  without  me! 

"Keep  close  to  the  camp,"  I  said  hoarsely. 
"No,  I  know  of  no  danger.  But  keep  close  to 
the  camp." 

Her  glance  came  back  to  me.  "Ah,  you  do 
think  there  is  danger!  But,  monsieur,  of  your 
self  —  If  there  is  peril  for  me  there  must  be 
more  for  you." 

She  looked  at  me  fully,  with  no  fear  in  her 
eyes,  but  with  quick,  intelligent  concern.  She 
stood  beside  me  in  the  dusk,  as  wife  should 
stand  with  husband,  and  feared  for  my  safety 
and  forgot  her  own.  Yet  I  dared  not  touch  her 
hand.  I  lifted  my  sword  and  slammed  it  in  its 
scabbard. 

"There  is  no  danger,"  I  said,  with  stupid 
brusqueness.  "I  am  over-anxious.  I  bid  you 
good-night,  madame." 

I  went  to  the  Malhominis  with  haste  pushing 
me,  for  I  hoped  for  news  of  Starling.  I  pressed 
forward,  yet  I  recoiled.  There  would  be  cross- 


236  MONTLIVET 

threads  to  untangle  when  I  met  my  wife's 
cousin. 

It  was  wonderful  voyaging  to  the  Malhominis. 
Their  village  was  near  the  mouth  of  a  river,  and 
they  were  close  bound  with  great  rice  swamps 
that  gave  them  their  name.  Our  low  canoe  bur 
rowed  through  a  tunnel  of  green  as  we  nosed  our 
way  up  to  their  camp.  Birds  fluttered  in  the 
tangle,  and  fish  bubbled  to  the  surface  under 
our  paddles.  I  did  not  wonder  that  I  found 
the  tribe  as  well  fed  as  summer  beavers.  But  I 
learned  nothing  from  them.  They  were  a  good- 
natured  people,  as  running  over  with  talk  as 
idle  women,  and  they  assured  me  that  I  was  the 
first  white  man  they  had  seen  since  the  moon 
of  worms.  We  talked  of  the  Huron  situation 
at  Michillimackinac,  but  they  said  nothing  of 
having  seen  a  warrior  of  that  tribe,  so  I  made 
sure  that  Pemaou  had  not  been  with  them.  I 
swallowed  relief  and  disappointment.  They  said 
that  a  small  company  of  Sacs  was  encamped  to 
the  north,  and  that  Father  Nouvel  was  with 
them.  So  after  a  few  days  I  went  on. 

A  waft  of  fetid  air  on  a  hot  day  will  bring  the 
smell  of  that  Sac  camp  to  me  even  now.  The 
Sacs  were  a  migratory,  brutish  people,  who 
snatched  at  life  red-handed  and  growling,  and 
as  I  squatted  in  their  dirty  hovels,  I  lost,  like  a 
dropped  garment,  all  sense  of  the  wonder  and 


I  USE  OPPORTUNITY  237 

freedom  of  my  wilderness  life.  Suddenly  all 
the  forest  seemed  squalid,  and  a  longing  for  the 
soft  ease  and  cleanliness  of  civilization  came 
on  me  like  a  wave.  But  I  hid  the  feeling,  and 
lingered,  though  my  welcome  was  but  slight. 
Even  my  small  cask  of  brandy  failed  to  buy  their 
smiles,  and  it  was  only  when  I  talked  of  war 
that  they  listened.  They  were  a  useless  people 
on  the  water,  for  they  could  not  handle  canoes, 
but  land  warfare  was  their  meat.  So  I  talked 
long. 

I  found  Father  Nouvel  among  them,  his  deli 
cate  old  face  shining  white  and  serene  amid 
their  grime.  I  fell  upon  him  eagerly,  but  he 
could  tell  me  nothing.  He  had  left  the  Potta- 
watamies  the  day  after  the  wedding,  and  had 
heard  no  rumors  of  any  Englishman.  I  did  not 
take  him  into  my  confidence.  He  had  outlived 
the  time  when  the  abstract  terms  "  ambition  " 
and  "patriotism"  had  meaning  to  him.  The 
story  of  my  hopes  would  have  tinkled  in  his  ears 
like  the  blarings  of  a  child's  trumpet.  But  in 
one  matter  he  questioned  me. 

:<  Your  wife,  —  should  you  not  have  brought 
her  with  you,  monsieur?" 

I  felt  piqued.  "  But  her  comfort,  Father  Nou 
vel!" 

He  looked  me  over.  "I  think  somehow  that 
she  would  prefer  your  company  to  her  own  com- 


238  MONTLIVET 

fort,"  he  said,  and  when  I  did  not  answer  he 
looked  troubled.  When  he  bade  me  good-by, 
he  spoke  again. 

'Your  wife  came  strangely  near  my  heart. 
You  are  giving  her  a  hard  life.  You  will  be 
patient  with  her,  monsieur?" 

I  bowed,  for  I  did  not  wish  to  answer.  Mine 
was  a  real  marriage  to  Father  Nouvel.  I 
thought  of  the  look  in  the  priest's  eyes  as  he 
made  us  man  and  wife,  and  of  the  voices  of  the 
Indian  women  as  they  chanted  of  life  and  mar 
riage,  and  I  shut  my  teeth  on  a  sudden  feeling 
of  bitterness.  A  man  may  be  counted  rich  yet 
know  himself  to  be  a  pauper.  I  never  saw 
Father  Nouvel  again.  If  he  were  living  now  I 
would  go  far  to  meet  him. 

It  was  a  long  day's  travel  back  to  Sturgeon 
Cove,  and  night  had  fallen  before  we  wound  our 
passage  around  the  curves  of  the  bay  and  saw 
the  clear  eye  of  the  evening  fire  burning  steadily 
on  the  shore.  Our  double  trip  had  taken  eleven 
days,  and  for  me  the  time  had  lagged.  I  had 
carried  an  unreasoning  weight  of  oppression,  and 
the  shout  that  I  gave  at  sight  of  the  black  figures 
around  the  blaze  was  an  outburst  of  relief. 

My  company  flung  themselves  at  the  shore, 
and  all  talked  at  once. 

"For  three  days  we  have  watched,"  Singing 
Arrow  scolded. 


I  USE  OPPORTUNITY  239 

The  woman  stood  near,  and  I  went  to  her. 
"Have  you  watched  for  three  days?"  I  asked, 
with  my  lips  on  her  hand. 

'Yes,"  she  said,  and  then  I  felt  ashamed,  for 
her  eyes  looked  worn  and  troubled. 

"  Forgive  me,  madame,"  I  murmured,  though  I 
scarcely  knew  for  what,  and  I  felt  embarrassed 
and  without  words. 

"I  will  stay  here  to-morrow,"  I  said  stupidly, 
and  when  she  said  that  she  was  glad,  it  did  not 
seem  to  me  that  she  meant  it.  I  saw  her  no 
more  that  night. 

But  with  the  fresh  morning  I  forgot  all  chill. 
We  lingered  over  a  breakfast  of  broiled  bass, 
and  the  woman  showed  me  a  canoe  that  Simon 
had  made  for  her.  Simon  was  the  deft-fingered 
member  of  my  crew,  and  he  had  fashioned  a 
fairy  craft.  I  saw  that  it  would  carry  two,  and 
I  said  to  the  woman  that  we  would  take  it,  and 
have  a  day  of  idleness  together.  I  feared  she 
might  demur,  but  she  did  not.  Indeed,  she  sud 
denly  laughed  out  like  a  child  without  much  rea 
son,  and  there  was  that  in  the  sound  that  satisfied 
me,  until  I  swore  at  the  men  and  their  blundering 
to  keep  down  my  own  joy. 

We  took  materials  for  lunch  and  started  be 
fore  the  dew  was  dry.  The  woman  showed  me 
her  new  skill  with  the  paddle,  and  I  praised 
her  without  care  for  my  conscience.  We  went 


240  MONTLIVET 

slowly  and  we  talked  much.  Yet  we  talked  only 
of  the  birds  and  the  woods  and  the  paddling. 
Never  of  ourselves. 

At  noon  we  landed  in  a  pocket  of  an  inlet  on 
the  south  side  of  the  cove  toward  its  mouth. 
There  was  a  wonderful  meadow  there  with  tiger 
lilies  burning  like  blood  and  a  giant  sycamore 
leaning  to  the  water.  I  cooked  a  venison  steak 
on  hot  stones,  and  we  had  maize  cakes  and 
wild  berries  and  water  from  a  spring.  We  sat 
alone  at  meat  as  we  had  never  done. 

After  lunch  the  woman  sat  under  the  syca 
more  and  I  lay  at  her  feet.  I  looked  up  at  her 
till  her  eyes  dropped. 

"Madame,"  I  whispered,  "madame,  you  were 
vexed  with  me  last  night." 

She  forced  her  glance  to  mine.  "Monsieur,  I 
had  been  terribly  anxious  for  three  days.  When 
I  saw  you" 

A  sun  ray  fell  across  her  face,  and  I  took  my 
hat  and  held  it  between  her  and  the  light. 
"You  did  not  finish,"  I  said.  "I  will  help  you. 
When  you  saw  that  I  was  safe  you  were  vexed 
that  I  had  not  come  earlier  and  so  saved  you 
anxiety  ?  Is  that  what  you  were  about  to  say, 
madame?" 

She  turned  to  smile  and  shake  her  head  at  my 
seriousness.  She  fought  down  her  rising  color 
and  held  her  head  like  a  gallant  boy. 


I  USE  OPPORTUNITY  241 

"  I  was  unreasonable,"  she  said.  "  Please  for 
get  it.  Did  your  trading  prosper,  monsieur  ?  " 

But  I  would  not  shift  my  eyes.  "I  shall  try 
not  to  vex  you  again  in  that  way.  I  did  not 
think  —  except  of  my  own  anxiety.  Let  me  tell 
you  what  I  have  been  doing.  I  have  been  trad 
ing,  yes,  but  I  have  also"  — 

"Careful,  monsieur!" 

"I  wish  you  to  know.  Madame,  I  am  suc 
ceeding  in  my  intriguing  among  the  tribes.  I 
talk  more  than  I  trade.  You  would  smile  at  my 
rhetoric  and  call  me  a  mountebank,  but  I  am  suc 
ceeding.  I  tell  the  tribes  that  when  more  than 
one  Englishman  reaches  here  the  whole  race  will 
follow  and  will  overflow  the  hunting  grounds  as  a 
torrent  does  the  lowlands.  I  tell  them  the  English 
will  bring  the  Iroquois.  I  show  them  that  the 
French  are  their  only  protection.  They  listen, 
for  what  I  say  is  not  new.  It  has  been  talked 
around  their  fires  for  a  long  time,  but  the  tribes 
are  not  powerful  enough  to  act  alone,  and  they 
have  lacked  a  leader  who  could  unite  them.  I 
think  that  they  will  follow  me  if  I  call  them  to 
war,  madame! " 

She  looked  at  me  steadily.  "  War  upon  whom, 
monsieur?" 

"War  upon  the  Iroquois.  Upon  the  English 
if  they  venture  near." 

"And  you  tell  me  this  because"  — 


242  MONTLIVET 

"Because  I  wish  sincerity  between  us." 

My  hat  lay  at  her  feet,  and  she  pressed  its  sorry 
plume  between  her  fingers.  "Monsieur,  if  you 
had  heard  news  of  Lord  Starling  during  this  last 
week  you  would  have  told  me  at  once." 

"  I  should  have  told  you  at  once,  madame.  I 
am  glad  you  introduced  this  matter.  Does  your 
mind  still  hold  ?  Or  do  you  now  think  that  we 
should  seek  your  cousin  ?  " 

Again  she  lowered  her  eyes,  but  I  did  not  miss 
the  sudden  flash  in  them.  "  My  cousin  chose 
his  path.  Why  need  we  interfere  ?  Have  you 
—  have  you  theories  as  to  where  he  can  be  ?  " 

I  flicked  my  finger  at  a  wandering  robin.  "I 
am  as  guiltless  of  theories  as  that  bird.  It  is 
passing  strange.  Your  cousin  and  our  ghostly 
Huron  seem  to  have  gone  up  in  vapor." 

"Our  ghostly  Huron,  monsieur?" 

I  planted  my  elbows  on  the  grass  that  I  might 
face  her.  "Listen,  madame.  It  is  time  you 
knew  the  story  of  Pemaou."  And  thereupon  I 
recited  all  that  had  happened  between  the  Huron 
and  myself  from  the  day  when  we  had  played  at 
shuttlecock  with  spears  till  the  night  when  he 
had  shadowed  us  at  the  Pottawatamie  camp,  — 
the  night  before  our  wedding.  I  even  told  her 
of  the  profile  in  his  pouch. 

She  winced  at  that.  "Why  did  you  not  tell 
me  before?" 


I  USE  OPPORTUNITY  243 

"It  seemed  useless  to  alarm  you.'* 

"  But  you  tell  me  now." 

I  smiled  at  her.  "I  know  you  better.  It 
seems  fitting  to  tell  you  everything  now,  ma- 
dame." 

She  looked  at  me  with  a  frown  of  worry. 
"Monsieur,  you  are  in  danger  from  that  Huron. 
He  hates  you  if  you  humbled  him." 

I  laughed  at  her.  "He  would  not  dare  harm 
a  Frenchman,  madame." 

"Then  why  does  he  follow  you  ?" 

But  there  I  could  only  shrug.  "  He  was  prob 
ably  in  Lord  Starling's  pay,  and  was  keeping 
track  of  us  that  he  might  direct  your  cousin  to  us. 
But  we  have  shaken  him  off." 

She  thought  this  over  for  some  time  without 
speaking,  and  I  was  content  to  lie  silent  at  her  feet. 
Bees  droned  in  the  flowers  and  white  drifts  of  after 
noon  clouds  floated  over  us.  I  was  happy  in  the 
moment,  and  more  than  that,  I  was  drugged 
with  my  dreams  of  the  future.  There  were  days 
and  days  and  days  before  us.  This  was  but  the 
threshold.  And  then,  with  my  ear  to  the  ground, 
I  heard  the  sound  of  an  axe.  The  sound  of  an 
axe  in  an  untraveled  wilderness ! 

I  crowded  closer  to  the  ground.  My  blood 
beat  in  my  temples,  and  I  was  awake  with  every 
muscle.  But  I  learned  nothing.  The  sound  of 
an  axe  and  then  silence. 


244  MONTLIVET 

The  woman  looked  at  me.  "Monsieur,  is 
something  wrong?  Your  face  has  changed." 

I  stretched  out  my  hand  to  her.  ;'You  must 
not  grow  fanciful.  But  come.  It  is  time  to  go 
home,  madame." 

I  pushed  her  into  the  canoe  in  haste,  but  when 
we  had  once  rounded  the  turn  of  the  bluff  we 
floated  home  slowly.  The  light  of  late  after 
noon  is  warm  and  yellow.  It  cradled  the  woman 
in  lapping  waves,  and  she  sat  glowing  and  fra 
grant,  and  her  eyes  were  mirrors  of  the  light.  I 
dropped  my  paddle. 

"Tell  me  more  about  yourself.  Talk  to  me. 
Tell  me  of  your  childhood,"  I  breathed. 

She  put  out  her  hand.  "Monsieur!  Our 
contract!" 

I  let  the  canoe  drift.  "Madame,  tell  me  the 
truth.  Why  do  you  hold  yourself  so  detached 
from  me  ?  Is  it  —  Madame,  is  it  because  you 
fear  that  we  shall  learn  to  love  each  other,  —  to 
love  against  our  wills  ?  " 

She  looked  down.  "It  would  be  a  tragedy  if 
we  did,  monsieur." 

"You  would  think  it  a  tragedy  to  learn  to  love 
me?" 

"It  could  be  nothing  else,  monsieur." 

The  breeze  took  us  where  it  willed.  The 
mother-of-pearl  shimmer  of  evening  was  turn 
ing  the  headlands  to  mist,  and  the  air  smelled 


I  USE  OPPORTUNITY  245 

of  cedar  and  pine.  Tiny  waves  lapped  com- 
plainingly  on  the  sides  of  our  rocking  canoe.  I 
leaned  forward. 

"  Listen,  madame,  you  know  life.  You  know 
how  little  is  often  given  under  the  bond  of  mar 
riage.  You  know  how  men  and  women  live  long 
lives  together  though  completely  sundered  in 
heart,  and  how  others  though  separated  in  life 
walk  side  by  side  in  the  spirit.  As  this  is  so, 
why  do  you  fear  to  see  or  know  too  much  of  me  ? 
Propinquity  does  not  create  love." 

Still  she  looked  down.  "  Men  say  that  it  does, 
monsieur." 

"Then  why  are  so  many  marriages  unhappy? 
No,  madame,  you  know  better  than  that.  And 
you  know  that  if  love  should  grow  between  us 
it  would  sweep  away  your  toy  barriers  like  paper. 
Nearness  or  absence  would  not  affect  it.  Ma 
dame,  let  me  have  your  hand." 

"No,  no!     Monsieur,  I  do  not  know  you." 

'You  shall  know  me  better.  Come,  what  is  a 
hand?  There.  Madame,  would  you  prefer,  from 
now  on,  to  travel  in  hardship  with  me  rather  than 
be  left  in  comfort  here  ?" 

"I  should  indeed,  monsieur." 

"Then  you  shall  go  with  me." 

"But  your  work,  monsieur!" 

I  released  her  hand  and  picked  up  my  paddle. 
"I  see  that  Indian  tribes  are  not  my  only  con- 


246  MONTLIVET 

cern,"  I  explained.  "I  have  other  matters  to 
conquer.  We  shall  not  be  separated  from  now 
on." 

She  did  not  answer,  and  I  paddled  home  in 
silence  with  my  eyes  on  her  face.  As  we  landed, 
she  gave  me  her  hand. 

"I  do  not  care  for  supper,  and  am  going  to 
my  house.  Good-night,  monsieur." 

I  bowed  over  her  hand.  "Are  you  glad  that 
you  are  to  travel  with  me  and  know  me  better  ? 
Are  you  glad,  madame?" 

She  smiled  a  little.  "I  —  I  think  so,  mon 
sieur." 

"You  are  not  sure?  Think  of  it  to-night. 
Perhaps  you  will  tell  me  to-morrow.  Will  you 
tell  me  to-morrow,  madame?" 

She  drew  back  into  the  dusk.  "  Perhaps  — 
to-morrow.  Good-night,  monsieur." 

I  walked  through  the  meadow.  I  would  not 
eat  supper  and  I  would  not  work.  Finally  I 
called  Simon.  He  was  a  strange,  quiet  man, 
not  as  strong  as  the  others  of  the  crew,  but  of 
use  to  me  for  his  knowledge  of  woodcraft.  As 
a  boy  he  had  been  held  captive  by  the  Mohawks, 
and  he  was  almost  as  deft  of  hand  and  eye  as 
they. 

"  Have  you  seen  any  sign  or  sound  of  Indian  or 
white  men  in  these  three  weeks?"  I  asked  him. 

He  looked  at  me  rather  sullenly.     "Yes.     A 


I  USE  OPPORTUNITY  247 

canoe  went  through  here  one  night  about  a  week 
ago." 

"Who  was  in  it?" 

"I  do  not  know." 

"You  should  have  followed." 

"I  did." 

"You  should  have  reported  to  me." 

He  glowered  at  me  with  the  eye  of  a  rebel 
lious  panther.  "I  watched.  The  master  went 
away."  Then  he  showed  his  teeth  in  open  defi 
ance.  "  I  watched  every  night  on  the  beach.  The 
master  slept  or  went  away." 

I  opened  my  mouth  to  order  him  under  guard, 
but  I  did  not  form  the  words.  I  thought  of  the 
way  that  he  had  spent  his  days  working  on  the 
delicately  fashioned  canoe  and  his  nights  in  keep 
ing  guard.  And  all  for  the  woman.  Women 
make  mischief  in  the  wilderness.  I  grew  pitiful. 

"Watch  again  to-night,"  I  said  kindly,  "and 
you  shall  sleep  to-morrow.  Simon,  I  thought 
that  I  heard  the  sound  of  an  axe  off  the  south 
shore  to-day.  I  shall  take  the  small  canoe  at 
daybreak  and  see  what  I  can  find.  Tell  the 
camp  I  have  gone  fishing.  I  shall  return  by 
noon.  And,  Simon"  — 

"Yes,  mastej." 

"Madame  de  Montlivet  is  your  special  care 
till  I  return." 


CHAPTER   XIX 

IN   THE   MIST 

I  SLIPPED  off  in  grayness  the  next  morning. 
There  was  a  water  fog  that  hugged  me  clammily, 
and  sounds  echoed  in  it  as  in  a  metal  canopy. 
I  could  not  have  found  my  way  in  open  water, 
but  here  I  could  crowd  tight  to  the  shore  and 
keep  my  bearings.  I  took  a  keg  of  pitch  with 
me,  for  when  I  saw  the  weather  I  knew  that  I 
would  give  the  canoe  many  a  scrape  on  rocks 
and  snags. 

It  was  tedious  traveling,  and  it  seemed  a  long 
time  before  I  made  my  worming  way  around 
every  inequality  in  the  shore  and  reached  the  in 
let  where  we  had  eaten  lunch.  Here  I  lifted  the 
canoe,  turned  it  bottom  side  up  in  the  meadow, 
and  covered  it  with  a  sailcloth.  I  wanted  it  to 
dry,  and  the  air  was  still  dripping  moisture.  I 
had  expected  the  fog  to  lift  before  this,  but  it 
seemed  to  be  growing  heavier. 

I  tried  to  light  my  pipe,  but  the  tobacco  was 
damp  and  would  not  burn.  Slow  drops  drib 
bled  from  the  trees  and  the  meadow  was  soggy. 
Where  should  I  go  ?  I  could  hear  nothing,  and 
as  for  seeing  anything  I  could  have  passed  my 


IN  THE  MIST  249 

own  camp  a  rod  away.  It  began  to  seem  a  fool's 
errand.  I  thought  of  returning. 

Perhaps  it  was  a  boyish  feeling  that  took  me 
to  the  sycamore.  I  looked  about.  The  ashes 
of  our  little  fire  still  lay  in  a  rounded  pile,  and 
at  the  edge  of  the  pile,  printed  deep  in  the  yield 
ing  surface,  was  a  moccasin  print.  It  was  not 
the  woman's  moccasin,  nor  my  own  boot.  One 
look  showed  me  that. 

And  then  I  went  over  the  surrounding  ground. 
I  learned  nothing,  for  pebbles  and  short  grass 
are  as  non-committal  as  a  Paris  pavement.  The 
print  had  been  made  before  the  mist  fell,  for  the 
dew  was  unb rushed.  I  looked  at  the  encircling 
forest,  and  its  dripping  uniformity  gave  no  clue. 
I  knocked  the  charred  tobacco  from  my  pipe, 
pulled  my  hat  down  on  my  ears,  and  plunged 
straight  ahead. 

It  was  a  fool's  way  of  going  at  the  matter,  but 
a  fool  has  as  good  a  chance  as  a  philosopher 
in  such  a  case.  I  clove  my  way  through  the 
mist  as  blind  and  breathless  as  a  swimmer  in 
a  breaker.  The  forest  was  thickly  grown  and 
the  trees  stood  about  me  as  alike  as  water-reeds. 
Whenever  I  touched  one  it  pelted  me  with  drops, 
and  I  was  numbed  with  cold.  My  feet  slipped, 
for  the  ground  was  slimy  with  wet.  But  I  was 
not  thinking  of  comfort,  nor  of  speed.  I  was 
listening. 


250  MONTLIVET 

For  the  strange,  gray  air  was  trembling  with 
echoes.  Every  snapped  twig,  every  bird  mur 
mur,  every  brush  of  a  padded  foot  on  leaf  mould 
was  multiplied  many-fold.  The  fog  was  a 
sounding-board.  All  the  spectral  space  around 
me,  above  me,  below  me  was  quivering  and 
talking.  My  very  breath  was  peopled  with  mur 
murs.  I  have  been  in  many  fogs,  but  none  like 
this  one.  If  the  spirits  of  the  dead  should  revisit 
us,  they  would  whisper,  I  think,  as  the  air  whis 
pered  around  me  then. 

How  long  I  groped,  learning  nothing,  I  do 
not  know,  for  when  the  mind  forgets  the  body 
minutes  may  be  long  or  short,  and  no  count  is 
taken  of  them.  But  at  last  among  the  noises 
that  knocked  at  my  ear  came  a  new  note.  I 
heard  a  human  voice. 

And  then,  indeed,  I  pressed  all  my  faculties 
into  service.  I  put  my  ear  to  the  wet  ground 
and  strained  it  against  tree  trunks,  trying  to  weed 
out  the  myriad  tiny  whisperings  that  assailed 
me  and  grasp  that  one  sound  that  I  wanted  and 
hold  it  clear.  And  at  last  I  heard  it  unmis 
takably;  there  were  voices,  more  than  one  it 
seemed. 

My  ears  buzzed  with  my  effort  to  listen.  I 
heard  the  sound,  lost  it,  then  heard  it  again. 
It  was  like  a  child's  game.  I  heard  it,  blun 
dered  after  it,  then  it  disappeared.  I  turned  to 


IN  THE  MIST  251 

go  back,  and  it  came  behind  and  mocked  me. 
It  was  everywhere  and  nowhere.  It  came  near, 
then  faded  into  silence.  The  fog  suffocated  me; 
I  found  myself  pressing  at  it  with  my  hands. 

Yet  on  the  whole  I  made  progress.  In  time 
the  voices  grew  clearer.  There  were  several 
of  them,  perhaps  many.  I  heard  shouting,  — 
orders,  presumably,  —  and  once  a  clink  of  metal, 
—  an  iron  kettle  it  might  have  been.  But  the 
sound  was  back  of  me,  in  front  of  me,  at  the 
sides  of  me,  above  me.  I  could  not  hold  it. 
It  reverberated  like  the  drumming  of  a  wood 
cock  that  comes  to  the  ear  from  four  quarters  at 
once.  And  all  the  time  the  fog  pressed  on  my 
eyelids  like  a  hand. 

I  had  left  my  musket  hidden  under  the  canoe, 
for  I  could  not  have  used  it  in  the  dampness, 
so  I  had  only  my  knife  for  guard.  I  carried 
it  open,  and  made  an  occasional  notch  upon  a 
tree.  Once  I  came  to  a  notched  tree  a  second 
time.  The  old  woodland  madness  was  on  me, 
and  I  was  stepping  in  circles.  Yet  the  sounds 
were  growing  clearer.  They  were  approaching, 
though  I  could  not  tell  from  what  quarter.  I 
stood  still. 

What  followed  was  like  a  dream;  like  the 
dream  that  I  had  had  the  night  after  the  storm 
when  I  woke  with  sweat  cold  on  me.  The  fog 
pinioned  me  like  a  clammy  winding-sheet;  I 


252  MONTLIVET 

could  see  nothing;  I  was  too  chilled  to  feel;  I 
was  as  alone  and  powerless  as  a  lost  canoe  in  the 
ocean ;  but  somewhere  on  earth  or  in  air  I  heard 
a  company  of  men  pass  me  by.  The  sounds 
were  unmistakable.  I  heard  the  swish  of  wet 
leaves,  the  pad  of  feet,  and  even  the  creak  of  the 
damp  leather  of  the  carrying-straps.  Something 
cracked,  pricking  in  my  ears  in  a  blur  of  sound, 
and  I  knew  that  the  men  had  brushed  a  branch 
with  the  canoe  that  they  were  carrying  on  their 
heads.  They  were  near  me;  at  any  moment 
they  might  come  within  touch  of  my  hand.  But 
where  were  they?  Whoever  they  were,  what 
ever  they  were,  the  wish  to  see  them  became  an 
obsession.  I  knew  no  feeling  but  my  tingling 
to  get  at  them.  I  pushed  to  right  and  left.  I 
knocked  against  trees.  The  sounds  were  here, 
then  there.  I  could  not  reach  them.  They 
taunted  me  as  lost  spirits  tantalize  a  soul  in 
purgatory.  Whichever  way  I  turned  they  were 
just  out  of  my  grasp.  I  clenched  my  hands  and 
swore  that  I  would  not  be  beaten. 

But  my  pitiful  little  oath  was  all  bluster  and 
impotent  defiance.  I  was  as  helpless  as  a 
squirming  puppy  held  by  the  neck.  I  ran  like 
a  madman,  but  I  ran  the  wrong  way.  The  in 
visible  crew  passed  me,  and  their  voices  faded. 
I  heard  them  melt,  melt  into  nothing.  A  sound, 
an  impression,  —  that  had  been  all.  Not  even 


IN  THE  MIST  253 

a  gray  shadow  on  the  fog  to  show  that  I  had 
not  been  dreaming.  I  looked  at  my  skinned 
knuckles  and  disordered  clothes,  and  a  strange 
feeling  shook  me.  A  certain  rashness  of  tem 
perament  had  all  my  life  made  me  contemptu 
ous  of  fear.  But  this  was  different.  I  tried  to 
laugh  at  myself,  but  could  not. 

It  was  a  simple  matter  to  retrace  my  route, 
for  I  had  left  a  trail  like  a  behemoth's.  And 
one  thought  I  chewed  all  the  way  back  to  the 
meadow.  If  I  could  have  done  it  over  again 
I  should  have  called,  and  so  have  drawn  what 
ever  thing  it  was  toward  me.  That  would  have 
been  dangerous,  and  I  might  have  paid  the  for 
feit  of  a  head  that  was  not  my  own  to  part  with, 
but  at  least  I  should  have  seen  what  thing  it 
was  that  passed  me  in  the  fog.  There  began 
to  be  something  that  was  not  wholly  sound  and 
sane  in  the  depth  of  my  feeling  that  I  ought, 
at  whatever  cost,  to  have  confronted  that  noise 
and  forced  it  to  declare  itself. 

When  I  came  to  the  meadow  it  was  wet  and 
spectral.  The  fog  had  lifted  somewhat  and 
now  the  air  was  curiously  luminous.  It  ap 
peared  transparent,  as  if  the  vision  could  pierce 
far-stretching  reaches,  but  when  I  tried  to  peer 
ahead  I  found  my  glance  baffled  a  few  feet 
away.  It  was  as  if  the  world  ended  suddenly, 
exhaled  in  grayness,  just  beyond  the  reach  of 


254  MONTLIVET 

my  hand.  It  made  objects  remote  and  unreal 
and  singularly  shining.  I  looked  toward  the  syca 
more,  and  my  heart  beat  fast  for  a  moment, 
for  I  thought  that  a  pool  of  fresh  blood  lay  in 
the  grass  where  the  woman  and  I  had  sat  the 
day  before.  But  I  looked  again  and  saw  that 
it  was  only  the  bunch  of  red  lilies  that  she  had 
plucked  and  worn  and  thrown  away.  I  had 
told  her  that  their  red  was  the  color  of  war,  and 
she  had  let  them  drop  to  the  ground.  I  went  to 
them  and  picked  them  up,  and  they  left  heavy, 
scarlet  stains  upon  my  fingers. 

When  I  went  to  the  canoe  I  found  it  still 
damp,  but  I  uncovered  it  and  went  to  work  to 
do  what  I  could  with  the  frayed  seams.  An 
unreasoning  haste  had  possession  of  me,  and  I 
worked  fumblingly  and  badly,  like  a  man  with 
fear  behind  him.  Yet  I  was  not  afraid.  I  was 
consumed  by  the  feeling  that  I  must  get  back 
to  camp  and  to  the  woman  without  delay. 

Kneeling  to  my  work  with  my  back  to  the 
forest,  strange  noises  came  behind  and  begged 
attention.  But  I  would  not  look  up.  I  had  had 
enough  of  visions  and  whisperings  and  a  haunted 
wood.  I  wanted  my  canoe  and  my  paddle  and 
a  chance  to  shoot  straight  and  to  get  home.  For 
already  I  thought  of  the  camp  as  home,  and  of 
this  meadow  as  a  place  where  I  had  been  held 
for  a  long  time.  It  was  a  strange  morning. 


IN  THE  MIST  255 

And  so  it  was  that  even  when  I  heard  the 
thud,  thud  of  a  man's  step  behind  me  I  did 
not  turn.  A  man's  step  is  unlike  an  animal's, 
and  I  had  no  doubt  in  my  heart  that  a  man  was 
coming.  But  let  him  come  to  me.  My  im 
mediate  and  pressing  concern  was  to  repair  my 
canoe  that  I  might  get  to  camp,  and  I  would 
squander  neither  movement  nor  eyesight  till 
that  was  done.  A  few  moments  before  it  had 
seemed  a  vital  matter  to  find  what  creatures 
they  were  that  whispered  and  rustled  past  me 
in  the  grayness.  Now  my  anxiety  was  trans 
ferred. 

The  echoing  fog  played  witchcraft  with  the 
step  as  it  had  done  with  the  other  noises.  The 
sound  came,  came,  came,  —  a  steady,  moderate 
note;  no  haste,  no  dallying,  no  indecision. 
Quiet,  purposeful,  controlled,  it  sounded;  that 
pace,  pace,  that  came  through  the  twig-car 
peted  timber.  The  Greek  Fates  were  pictured 
as  moving  with  just  that  even  relentlessness  of 
stride.  Yet  in  life,  so  far  as  I  have  seen  it,  trage 
dies  commonly  pounce  upon  us,  like  a  wolfish 
cat  upon  her  prey,  and  we  find  ourselves  stunned 
and  mangled  before  we  gather  dignity  to  meet 
the  blow.  I  thought  of  this,  in  an  incoherent, 
muddy  way,  as  the  step  came  nearer.  And  I 
worked  with  hurrying  hands  at  the  canoe. 

Then  came  a  voice.     No  whispering,  no  rust- 


256  MONTLIVET 

ling,  nothing  vague  and  formless  and  haunting, 
but  a  low,  commanding  call:  — 

"Bonjour,  mon  ami." 

I  did  not  start.  If  I  turned  slowly  it  was  be 
cause  I  knew  what  was  waiting  me,  and  was  ad 
justing  several  possibilities  to  meet  it.  It  was  a 
man's  voice  that  called,  yet  its  every  inflection 
was  familiar,  familiar  as  the  beating  of  my  heart. 
For  madame,  my  wife,  had  called  to  me  more  or 
less  often  in  the  twin  of  that  voice  with  its  slurring 
deliberateness  and  its  insolent  disregard  of  the 
pitfall  accents  of  a  foreign  tongue.  And  now  I 
turned  to  meet  her  cousin,  the  man  whom 
she  had  promised  to  marry;  the  man  who  had 
deserted  her  to  the  knives  of  savages;  the  man 
whom  she  despised  and  yet  feared,  and  who 
now  called  to  me  in  a  voice  that  was  hers  and 
yet  was  not;  that  haunted  and  repelled,  all 
in  one.  I  did  not  think  out  any  of  this  by  rule 
and  line.  I  only  knew  that  I  dreaded  meet 
ing  this  man  who  was  stepping,  stepping  into 
my  life  through  the  fog,  and  that  I  turned  to 
meet  him  with  my  heart  like  ice  but  my  brain  on 
fire. 

I  had  ado  to  keep  my  tongue  from  exclaiming 
when  I  turned.  I  do  not  know  why  I  expected 
the  man  to  be  small,  except  that  I  myself  am 
overly  large,  and  that  I  was  looking  for  him  to 
be  my  antithesis  in  every  way.  But  the  figure 


IN  THE  MIST  257 

that  loomed  toward  me  out  of  the  luminous  mist 
dwarfed  my  own  stature.  Never  had  my  eyes 
seen  so  powerful  a  man.  Long  and  swinging  as 
an  elk,  he  had  the  immense,  humped  shoulders 
of  a  buffalo  and  the  length  of  arm  of  a  baboon. 
His  head  would  have  sat  well  on  some  rough 
bronze  coin  of  an  early  day.  Semitic  in  type 
he  looked,  with  his  eagle-beaked  nose  and  prom 
inent  cheek  bones,  but  the  blue  of  his  eyes  was 
English.  They  were  intelligent  eyes. 

He  looked  at  me  a  moment,  and  I  stood  si 
lent  for  his  initiative.  I  remembered  that  I  was 
dressed  roughly,  was  torn  and  rumpled  by  my 
contest  with  the  forest,  and  that  I  must  appear 
an  out-at-elbows  coureur  de  bois.  He  would 
not  know  me  for  the  man  he  was  seeking.  I 
waited  for  him  to  ask  my  name,  and  selected 
one  to  give  him  that  was  my  own  and  yet  was 
not  M.  de  Montlivet.  Since  names  cannot  be 
sold  nor  squandered,  my  father  had  bequeathed 
me  a  plethora  of  them. 

But  I  credited  the  Englishman  with  too  little 
acuteness.  He  stepped  forward.  "This  is  Mon 
sieur  de  Montlivet?" 

I  could  do  no  less  than  bow,  but  I  kept  my 
hand  by  my  side.  "And  you,  monsieur?" 

He  smiled  as  at  one  indulging  a  childish  skir 
mish  of  wits;  but  controlled  as  his  face  was,  I 
could  see  the  relief  that  overspread  it  at  my 


258  MONTLIVET 

admission.  "My  name  is  Starling.  I  have  a 
packet  for  you,  monsieur,"  and  he  handed  me 
Cadillac's  letter. 

I  hated  the  farce  of  the  whole  affair,  and  when 
I  ran  my  eye  over  Cadillac's  message,  which  I 
could  forecast  word  for  word,  I  felt  like  a  play 
acting  fool.  But  I  read  it  and  put  it  in  my 
pocket. 

"You  have  had  a  long  trip,  Lord  Starling,"  I 
said,  with  some  show  of  courtesy.  "It  is  new  to 
see  a  man  of  your  nation  in  this  land ! " 

He  waved  me  and  my  words  into  limbo. 
"Where  is  the  Englishman,  —  the  prisoner?" 

A  folded  blanket  lay  beside  the  canoe,  and  I 
shook  it  out  and  spread  it  on  the  dew-drenched 
grass.  "Will  you  sit,  Lord  Starling?  Forgive 
me  if  I  smoke.  It  is  unusual  grace  to  meet  a 
man  of  my  own  station,  and  I  would  enjoy  it  in 
my  own  way.  Will  you  do  the  same  ?  I  see  you 
have  your  pipe." 

He  swung  his  great  arm  like  a  war  club. 
"Where  is  the  prisoner?" 

I  sat  on  the  red  blanket  and  filled  my  pipe. 
"I  know  of  no  prisoner." 

I  thought  he  would  have  broken  into  oaths,  but 
instead  he  shrugged  his  shoulders.  He  walked 
to  the  other  side  of  the  blanket,  and  I  saw  that 
he  limped  painfully.  Then  he  sat  down  opposite 
me,  his  great  turtle  neck  standing  up  between 


IN  THE  MIST  259 

his  humping  shoulders.  With  all  his  size  and  ugli 
ness  he  was  curiously  well  finished, —  a  personality. 
He  was  a  man  to  sway  men  and  women.  I  felt  it 
as  I  felt  his  likeness  to  his  cousin,  a  likeness  that 
I  could  not  put  my  finger  on  but  that  I  knew 
was  there.  Small  wonder  that  she  dreaded  him. 
He  was  a  replica  in  heavy  lines  of  the  sterner 
traits  in  her  own  nature.  He  had  something  of 
her  curiously  winning  quality,  too.  Did  she 
feel  that  ?  She  had  promised  to  marry  him.  I  lit 
my  pipe  and  smoked,  and  waited  for  him  to 
declare  himself. 

He  did  it  with  his  glance  hard  on  me.  "You 
are  playing  for  time.  Is  that  worthy  your  very 
evident  intelligence,  monsieur,  since  you  can  pro 
tract  the  game  only  the  matter  of  a  few  hours  at 
most  ?  I  have  Cadillac's  warrant  for  the  pris 
oner." 

I  smoked.  I  felt  no  haste  for  speech.  What  I 
had  to  say  would  make  a  brutal,  tearing  wound, 
and  I  hugged  my  sense  of  power  and  gloated 
over  it  like  an  Iroquois.  A  woman  was  between 
us,  and  I  knew  no  mercy. 

My  silence  appeared  to  amuse  him.  He 
studied  me  and  looked  unhurried  and  reflective. 
He  stretched  out  a  long,  yellow  arm  in  simulation 
of  contented  weariness.  "I  wonder  why  you 
wish  to  keep  the  prisoner  with  you  longer,"  he 
marveled. 


260  MONTLIVET 

And  then  I  laughed.  I  looked  him  full  in  the 
face  and  laughed  again.  "But  I  have  no  pris 
oner.  Unless,  indeed,  matrimony  be  a  sort  of 
bondage.  I  travel  with  my  wife,  with  Madame 
de  Montlivet,  ne'e  Starling,  monsieur." 

I  knew  that  I  had  cut  him  in  a  vital  part, 
but  he  held  himself  well.  An  oath  burst  from 
him,  but  it  did  not  move  his  great,  immobile 
face  into  betraying  lines.  Yet  when  he  tried  to 
speak  his  voice  trailed  off  in  an  unmeaning  rat 
tle.  He  tried  twice,  and  his  hands  were  sweat- 
beaded.  Then  he  heaved  his  great  bulk  upward 
and  stood  over  me,  his  baboon  arms  reaching 
for  my  throat. 

"The  marriage  was  honest?     Speak." 

I  could  respect  that  feeling.  "Father  Nouvel 
married  us,"  I  replied.  "We  found  him  at  the 
Pottawatamie  Islands.  I  marvel  that  you  did 
not  hear  news  of  us  from  there,  monsieur." 

He  sank  back  on  the  blanket.  "I  did  not 
go  there.  I  sprained  my  ankle."  He  talked  still 
with  that  curious  rattling  in  his  voice.  "I  lost 
time  and  the  damned  Indians  left  me.  When 
did  you  discover" 

"I  married  madame  as  soon  as  I  discovered. 
Monsieur,  you  are  of  her  family.  I  can  assure 
you  that  I  have  shown  your  cousin  all  the  respect 
and  consideration  in  my  power." 

He  looked  at  me  as  if  I  were  some  smirking 


IN  THE  MIST  261 

carpet  knight  who  prated  of  conventions  when  a 
man  was  dying. 

"  Where  is  she?" 

"  In  my  camp,  monsieur." 

"Take  me  to  her." 

"Monsieur,  I  must  refuse." 

He  opened  his  mouth  with  a  look  that  cursed 
me,  but  before  the  words  came  he  thought  twice 
and  changed  his  front.  He  spoke  calmly.  "I  am 
her  guardian  and  her  cousin.  I  was  her  intended 
husband.  You  are  a  gentleman.  I  ask  you  to 
bring  me  to  my  cousin,  monsieur." 

His  tone  of  calm  possession  fired  me.  I  re 
membered  what  he  was,  and  I  enumerated  his 
titles  in  order. 

'Yes.  You  are  the  guardian  who  would  have 
married  her  for  her  estates;  you  are  the  cousin 
who  played  the  poltroon  and  outraged  her  pride 
of  family;  you  are  the  lover  who  abandoned  her, 
—  abandoned  her  to  torture  and  the  tomahawk. 
Is  it  strange  that  it  is  her  wish  never  to  see  you  ? 
You  will  spare  your  pride  some  hurts  if  you  avoid 
her  in  the  future,  monsieur." 

The  great  face  turned  yellow  to  the  eyes. 
"She  told  you  this?" 

"I  am  no  mind  reader,  monsieur." 

And  then  he  turned  away.  I  took  one  glimpse 
of  his  face  and  knew  it  was  not  decent  to  look 
a  second  time.  He  had  done  a  hideous  thing, 


262  MONTLIVET 

but  he  was  having  a  hideous  punishment.  Na 
ture  had  formed  him  for  a  proud  man,  and  he  had 
lived  arrogantly,  secure  of  homage.  I  wondered 
now  that  he  could  live  at  all. 

And  so  I  went  to  work  at  the  canoe,  and 
waited  till  he  should  turn  to  me.  When  he  did 
it  was  with  a  child's  plea  for  pity,  and  the  abject- 
ness  of  his  tone  was  horrible,  coming  from  a  man 
of  his  girth  and  power. 

'You  might  have  done  the  same  thing  your 
self,  monsieur." 

I  bowed.  I  could  not  but  toss  him  that  bone 
of  comfort,  for  it  was  the  truth.  Sometimes  a 
spring  snaps  suddenly  in  a  man,  and  he  becomes 
a  brute.  How  could  I  boast  that  I  would  be  im 
mune? 

"But  I  would  have  shot  myself  the  moment 
after,"  I  said. 

He  had  regained  his  level.  "Then  you  would 
have  been  a  double  coward.  I  shall  do  better." 

'You  think  to  reinstate  yourself?" 

"I  know  that  I  shall  reinstate  myself.  Mon 
sieur,  I  throw  myself  upon  your  courtesy.  I  ask 
to  be  taken  to  my  cousin." 

"No,  monsieur.     I  follow  my  wife's  wishes." 

"I  loved  her,  monsieur." 

My  pity  of  the  moment  before  was  gone  like 
vapor.  I  looked  up  from  my  canoe,  and  took 
the  man's  measure.  "I  think  not.  You  loved 


IN  THE  MIST  263 

something,  I  grant.  Her  wit,  perhaps,  her 
money,  the  pleasure  she  gave  your  epicure's 
taste.  But  you  did  not  love  her,  the  woman. 
My  God,  if  you  loved  her  how  could  you  endure 
to  scatter  her  likeness  broadcast  among  the 
savages  as  you  did  ?  To  make  that  profile,  that 
mouth,  that  chin,  the  jest  and  property  of  a 
greasy  Indian!  No,  you  shall  not  see  my  wife, 
monsieur." 

He  changed  no  line  at  my  outburst.  ;'Then 
I  shall  follow  by  force.  I  shall  sit  here  till  you 
move,  monsieur." 

I  shrugged.  "  A  rash  promise.  Are  your  pro 
visions  close  at  hand  ?" 

He  looked  at  me  steadfastly.  'Then  you  ab 
solutely  refuse  to  take  me  to  her?" 

"I  refuse." 

"Yet  I  shall  reach  her." 

I  took  moss  from  my  pocket  and  calked  a  seam 
with  some  precision.  I  did  not  speak. 

'''  You  think  that  I  cannot  reach  her  ?" 

I  smiled.  There  was  a  womanish  vein  in  the 
man  that  he  should  press  me  in  this  fashion  for 
a  useless  answer.  I  began  to  see  his  weakness 
as  well  as  his  obvious  strength.  I  waited  till  he 
asked  yet  again. 

:<You  think  that  I  shall  not  be  able  to  reach 
your  wife,  monsieur?" 

And  then  I  shrugged  and  examined  him  over 


264  MONTLIVET 

my  pipe-bowl.  "  Yes,  you  will  reach  her,  I  think. 
You  have  a  certain  persistence  that  often  wins 
small  issues,  —  seldom  large  ones.  But  I  shall  not 
help  you." 

"I  shall  stay  here  till  you  go." 

"Then  we  shall  be  companions  for  some  time. 
May  I  offer  you  tobacco,  monsieur?" 

He  smiled,  though  wryly  and  against  his  will. 
It  was  plain  that  we  were  taking  a  certain  sa 
turnine  enjoyment  out  of  the  situation.  We  could 
hate  each  other  well,  and  we  were  doing  it,  but 
we  were  both  starved  for  men's  talk,  —  the  talk 
of  equals. 

"It  seems  a  pity  to  detain  you,"  he  mused. 
"You  are  obviously  on  business.  When  I  came 
up  behind  you  I  thought  that  I  had  never  seen 
a  man  work  in  such  a  frenzy  of  haste.  There 
was  sweat  on  your  forehead." 

I  waved  my  pipe  at  him.  I  had  the  upper 
hand,  and  I  felt  cruelly  jovial.  "It  was  haste 
to  meet  you,"  I  assured  him.  "I  missed  you 
in  the  fog,  and  feared  you  would  reach  camp 
before  me." 

'You  feared  me,  monsieur?" 

I  felt  an  unreasoning  impulse  to  be  candid 
with  him.  The  strange,  choking  terror  had  swept 
back  at  that  instant,  and  again  it  had  me  by  the 
throat.  Yet  here  sat  the  cause  of  my  terror  be 
fore  me,  and  he  was  in  my  power. 


IN  THE  MIST  265 

"I  feared  your  Indians."  I  spoke  gravely. 
"Handle  those  Hurons  carefully,  monsieur.  It 
is  a  tricky  breed." 

"But  I  have  no"  —  He  stopped,  and  looked 
at  me  strangely.  "  What  made  you  think  that  I 
was  near  ?  " 

"For  one  thing  I  heard  your  axe  yesterday." 

"But  yesterday  I  was  five  leagues  from  here." 

I  whistled  through  my  teeth.  I  hate  a  use 
less  lie.  "I  heard  your  axe,"  I  reiterated. 
"This  morning  you  and  your  men  passed  me 
in  the  fog." 

He  stared  at  me,  then  at  the  forest.  "Mon 
sieur,  I  have  no  men!" 

"What?" 

"I  came  alone." 

"  Monsieur,  you  are  lying." 

"It  is  you  who  are  mad.  Take  your  hands 
away!" 

"I  will  let  you  go  when  you  tell  me  the  truth. 
Remember,  your  men  passed  me  this  morning." 

"I  tell  you,  I  came  alone." 

"Where  are  your  Indians  that  Cadillac  sent 
with  you?" 

"I  sprained  my  ankle  and  they  left  me." 

"Where  did  they  go?" 

"How  should  I  know?  I  tell  you  they  left 
me." 

"  Was  Pemaou,  the  Huron,  one  of  them  ?" 


266  MONTLIVET 

"He  was  guide.  Monsieur,  what  do  you 
mean?" 

I  could  not  answer.  My  throat  was  dry  as  if 
I  breathed  a  furnace  blast.  I  looked  at  the  canoe 
under  my  hands.  It  was  not  seaworthy.  "Will 
your  canoe  carry  two?"  I  cried. 

He  nodded.  His  great  rough  face  was  sickly 
with  suspense.  "Monsieur,  what  does  this 
mean  ?" 

I  swore  at  him  and  at  the  hour  he  had  made 
me  lose.  "Men  passed  me  in  a  fog.  They 
have  been  hiding  here  for  a  day  at  least.  Show 
me  your  canoe.  We  must  get  to  camp.  Yes, 
come  with  me.  Come,  show  me  your  canoe." 


CHAPTER   XX 

WHAT   I   FOUND 

ONCE  in  the  canoe  I  bade  Lord  Starling  crouch 
low,  and  I  paddled  fiercely.  I  breathed  hard 
not  from  exertion,  but  like  a  swimmer  fight 
ing  for  his  breath.  I  was  submerged  in  waves 
of  terror,  yet  I  had  no  name  for  what  I  feared. 
I  learned  then  that  there  is  but  one  real  terror 
in  the  world, — fear  of  the  unseen.  The  man 
who  feels  terror  of  an  open  foe  must  be  a  strange 
craven. 

Lord  Starling  respected  my  mood  and  was  si 
lent.  He  sat  warily,  shifting  his  weight  to  suit  the 
plunging  canoe. 

"  The  fog  chokes  me,"  he  said  at  length. 
"  How  large  a  camp  have  you  ?  Whom  did  you 
leave  on  guard?" 

I  told  him. 

"That  should  be  sufficient." 

"Not  for  a  concerted  attack." 

"But  who  would  make  a  concerted  attack ? " 

I  lengthened  my  stroke  till  the  canoe  quivered. 
"I  am  not  sure.  I  have  been  shadowed.  I 
thought  it  was  by  your  order.  I  cannot  talk 
and  paddle,  monsieur." 


268  MONTLIVET 

But  I  could  paddle  and  think.  And  always  I 
saw  the  meadow  as  we  had  found  it  that  first  day 
with  drifts  of  white  butterflies  over  the  flowers, 
and  the  woods  warm  and  beckoning.  How  would 
the  meadow  look  now  ? 

But  when  we  came  to  it  I  thought  it  looked 
unchanged,  save  that  the  fog  made  all  things 
sinister.  We  crashed  through  the  guarding 
reeds,  and  I  let  the  canoe  drive  hard  upon  the 
sand.  No  one  was  in  sight,  and  a  wolf  was 
whining  at  the  edge  of  the  timber.  I  leaped  to 
the  shore. 

I  think  that  I  called  as  I  stumbled  forward. 
I  saw  the  ashes  of  a  dead  fire,  and  a  cask  that 
had  held  rum  lying  with  the  sides  and  end 
knocked  in.  Then  I  saw  a  dead  body. 

I  did  not  hasten  then.  My  feet  crawled. 
The  body  lay  sprawled  and  limp  with  its  out 
stretched  fingers  clutching.  One  hand  pointed 
toward  the  woman's  cabin. 

I  turned  the  corpse  over.  It  was  Simon.  His 
scarlet  head  was  still  dripping,  but  his  face  was 
untouched.  I  saw  that  he  had  died  despairing, 
and  I  laid  him  back  with  a  prayer  on  my  lips 
but  with  the  lust  to  kill  in  my  heart. 

I  went  through  the  cabins  quickly  but  me 
thodically.  I  think  that  I  made  no  sound  of 
grief  or  excitement,  but  I  knew  indefinitely  that 
Lord  Starling  was  following  me,  and  that,  at  hor- 


WHAT  I  FOUND  269 

ribly  measured  intervals,  he  gave  short,  panting 
groans.  But  I  did  not  speak  to  him,  nor  he  to 
me. 

I  spoke  for  the  first  time  at  the  woman's  cabin. 
I  looked  within  and  saw  that  it  was  untouched ; 
then  I  put  out  my  arm  and  barred  Lord  Starling's 
way. 

"I  have  never  stepped  in  here,  and  you  shall 
not,"  I  told  him  with  my  jaws  set,  and  I  think 
that  I  struck  him  across  the  face,  though  of  that 
I  have  never  been  quite  sure. 

In  my  own  lodge  I  found  havoc.  Bales  had 
been  broken  open,  and  my  papers  were  thrown 
and  trampled.  Many  of  the  papers  were  blood- 
smeared. 

I  examined  every  cabin  and  every  bale,  then 
went  to  the  ashes  of  the  camp  fire  and  stood  still. 
Lord  Starling  followed,  and  I  heard  his  smothered 
groan.  I  took  out  my  knife. 

"  I  shall  kill  you  if  you  make  that  noise  again," 
I  said. 

I  think  that  I  spoke  quietly,  but  he  stepped 
back.  I  saw  that  he  was  afraid,  —  afraid  of  los 
ing  his  miserable,  mistaken  life,  —  and  I  laughed. 
I  laughed  for  a  long  time.  Hearing  myself 
laugh,  I  knew  that  it  sounded  as  if  I  were  near 
insanity,  but  I  was  not.  My  head  had  never 
been  clearer. 

Perhaps   Lord    Starling   conquered   his    fear. 


270  MONTLIVET 

He  came  nearer  and  lifted  his  magnificent,  com 
pelling  bulk  above  me. 

"Listen!"  he  began.  "We  have  been  foes; 
we  shall  be  again;  but  now  we  are  knit  closer 
than  eye  and  brain  in  a  common  cause.  I  will 
deal  with  you  with  absolute  truth  as  with  my 
own  right  hand.  Tell  me.  Tell  me,  in  God's 
mercy !  What  do  you  know  ?  Who  did  this  ? 
What  can  we  do?" 

His  voice  was  judicial,  but  I  saw  his  great 
frame  swaying  like  a  shambling  ox.  I  mar 
veled  that  he  could  show  emotion.  My  own 
body  felt  dead. 

"The  woman  has  been  taken  away,"  my 
stiff,  strange  voice  explained.  "  So  far  they  have 
not  harmed  her." 

"How  do  you  know?" 

"There  are  no  marks  of  struggle.  Simon 
resisted,  and  they  killed  him.  The  other  men 
surrendered.  The  Indians  wanted  prisoners,  not 
scalps." 

"Was  it  Pemaou  and  his  Hurons?" 

"Yes." 

'You  are  sure  ?  " 

"  He  left  a  broken  spear  in  my  lodge.  There 
was  bad  blood  between  us  once,  and  I  broke  the 
spear  in  two  and  tossed  the  pieces  at  him,  telling 
him  to  keep  them,  —  to  keep  them,  for  we  should 
meet  again.  I  humbled  him.  Now  it  is  his 


WHAT  I  FOUND  271 

jest.     He  is  a  capable  Indian.     He  seems  to  have 
outwitted  even  you,  monsieur." 

Because  I  spoke  as  one  dead  he  thought  I 
needed  leading.  He  took  me  by  the  arm  and 
would  have  guided  me  gently  to  the  canoe. 

"Come,  Monsieur  de  Montlivet,  you  must 
rouse  yourself.  We  must  start  in  pursuit." 

I  shook  him  off.     "Sit  here  where  it  is  dry.. 
You  need  your  strength.     We  have  hours  to  get 
through  here  before  we  leave,  and  little  to  do  to 
help  us  through  the  time.     We  must  wait  here 
for  Pierre." 

"What  do  you  mean ?     We  must  go  at  once." 

"No,  we  wait  for  Pierre.  It  may  be  dusk 
before  he  returns.  I  sent  him  over  the  portage 
yesterday  with  orders  to  explore  some  leagues 
to  the  south.  We  must  wait  for  him.  He  can 
tell  us  whether  Pemaou  went  east  by  way  of  the 
portage." 

"But  we  lose  time!" 

"We  gain  it.  If  Pemaou  did  not  go  by  way 
of  the  portage,  he  went  west.  He  would  not 
dare  go  north,  for  fear  of  the  Pottawatamies, 
and  he  would  have  no  object  in  going  south. 
He  went  east  or  west.  We  can  learn  from 
Pierre." 

The  man's  shoulders  heaved.  "Your  men 
were  cowards,"  he  muttered. 

I  looked  at  him.     So  a  coward  could  despise 


272  MONTLIVET 

a  coward!  "My  men  were  wise/'  I  corrected. 
"With  Simon  killed  there  were  only  two  men 
left,  —  one,  rather,  for  Leclerc  is  a  nonentity. 
Labarthe,  left  alone,  was  wise  to  surrender.  He 
is  skillful  with  Indians.  Monsieur,  tell  me  of 
your  dealings  with  Pemaou.  Tell  me  your  trip 
here.  I  need  details." 

He  measured  me.      'You  dictate,  monsieur?" 

I  pointed  to  Simon's  body.  "That  is  my 
claim." 

He  gulped  at  that,  and  turned  his  back  on 
the  red  horror  to  fix  his  steady,  critical  gaze  on 
my  face.  "After  the  massacre,"  he  began,  with 
an  effort,  "I  followed  many  false  trails.  I  went 
to  Quebec,  to  Montreal.  All  this  has  nothing  to 
do  with  what  you  wish  to  know.  But  at  Mon 
treal  I  first  heard  rumors  of  an  English  prisoner 
who  was  being  carried  westward.  That  sent  me 
to  Michillimackinac." 

"You  heard  this  rumor  through  the  priests?" 

'Yes,  monsieur." 

"  I  thought  so.  It  is  fortunate  for  the  success 
of  your  somewhat  complicated  plans  that  you  are 
a  Catholic  and  a  Jacobite." 

"Is  there  a  slur  in  that  remark,  monsieur  ?" 

"Not  unless  the  facts  themselves  are  insulting. 
Our  priests  would  see  no  hidden  purpose  in  your 
story.  They  would  be  predisposed  in  favor  of 
a  Catholic  and  follower  of  James.  They  would 


WHAT  I  FOUND  273 

give  you  letters  where  a  commandant  would  not. 
It  was  good  policy  to  go  to  them." 

"But,  monsieur,  I  am  a  Catholic!" 

"Which,  I  repeat,  is  fortunate." 

"Monsieur,  this  is  wanton  insult.  Are  you 
trying  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  me  here,  here  with 
this  tragedy  around  us  ?  It  is  a  dog's  trick.  I 
will  not  fight  you." 

Again  I  took  out  my  knife.  "I  will  not  fight 
you  here,  —  here  with  this  tragedy  around  us, — 
but  I  may  kill  you.  I  shall  do  it  if  you  do  not 
tell  me  this  story  fairly.  I  care  nothing  for  your 
life,  and  I  need  this  story.  I  will  have  it  if  I 
have  to  choke  it  out  of  your  throat," 

"  I  am  trying  to  tell  you  the  story,  monsieur." 

"No.  You  are  telling  me  a  pleasant  fairy 
tale  of  a  love-lorn  knight  searching  the  wilder 
ness  for  his  lost  mistress.  A  moving  tale,  mon 
sieur,  but  not  the  true  one.  I  want  the  real 
story.  The  story  of  the  English  spy  who  wishes 
to  ransom  his  cousin,  but  who  also  treats  secretly 
with  the  Hurons,  —  who  treats  with  Pemaou, 
monsieur.  Tell  me  his  story." 

His  face  did  not  alter.  ;<You  believe  me  a 
spy?" 

"I  have  reason,  monsieur." 

Still  he  regarded  me.  'You  might  be  right, 
but  you  are  not.  Monsieur,  I  am  a  broken  man. 
I  want  nothing  but  my  cousin.  If  there  is  in- 


274  MONTLIVET 

trigue  around  me  I  do  not  know  it.  I  am  telling 
you  the  truth." 

I  fought  hard  against  the  man's  fascination, 
his  splendid,  ruined  pomp.  'You  must  have  a 
code,"  I  burst  out.  "There  must  be  something 
you  hold  dear.  Will  you  swear  to  me  by  the 
name  of  the  woman  that  you  have  not  had  secret 
dealings  with  the  Hurons?" 

"I  swear." 

"But  the  profile  that  the  Huron  carried!" 

"Those  pictures  I  scattered  broadcast.  You 
will  find  them  among  the  Algonquins,  and  the 
Ottawas  of  the  upper  river.  My  cousin  has  a 
distinctive  profile.  I  offered  rewards  for  news 
of  any  one  —  man  or  woman  —  who  looked  like 
the  face  that  I  had  drawn." 

I  put  out  my  hand.  "I  hope  that  I  have 
wronged  you,  monsieur." 

He  bowed  and  touched  my  fingers.  His  own 
were  icy,  yet  he  shivered  at  the  chill  of  mine. 
"Pemaou  would  not  dare  harm  the  woman. 
Monsieur  de  Montlivet,  you  know  Indians. 
Surely  Pemaou  would  not  dare?" 

I  gripped  my  knife.  "  No  man  knows  Indians ! 
Where  did  you  see  Pemaou  first  ?" 

"At  Michillimackinac.  When  I  reached 
there  and  learned  that  the  prisoner  had  gone 
with  you  I  sent  interpreters  through  the  camps 
with  offers  of  reward  for  news  of  your  where- 


WHAT  I  FOUND  275 

abouts.  Pemaou  came.  He  said  he  could  lo 
cate  you  and  I  took  him  as  guide." 

"He  selected  his  own  escort?" 

"Yes." 

"And  you  traveled  slowly?" 

"Very  slowly." 

I  fingered  my  pipe  and  bit  hard  at  its  stem. 
"  Pemaou  has  played  carefully.  He  had  the  wo 
man  captured  and  brought  to  camp.  The  time 
was  not  ripe  for  him  to  use  her,  so  he  let  me 
carry  her  away.  But  he  has  had  me  shadowed. 
You  played  well  into  his  hands,  for  you  furnished 
blankets  and  provisions.  He  had  no  intention  of 
letting  you  find  us.  We  are  equal  dupes.  I 
see  that  I  wronged  you,  monsieur." 

He  looked  down,  his  breath  laboring.  I  could 
look  at  him  now  without  recoil,  for  a  common 
humiliation  bound  us.  We  were  white  and  we 
had  been  tricked  by  a  savage.  We  sat  in  heavy 
silence. 

At  last  Starling  spoke  dully.  "  Why  did 
Pemaou  wait  so  long?" 

I  gripped  my  knife  the  closer.  !<  That  we  shall 
learn  when  we  learn  what  he  has  done  with  the 
woman." 

He  looked  up  with  his  jaw  shaking.  "Mon 
sieur,  we  must  make  haste." 

But  I  shook  my  head.  "Monsieur,  no.  We 
must  await  Pierre." 


276  MONTLIVET 

The  fog  was  withdrawing.  It  was  noon,  and 
I  rose  and  made  ready  a  grave  for  Simon.  I 
chose  a  spot  under  a  pine  where  I  had  seen  the 
woman  sit,  and  I  dug  deep  as  my  crude  imple 
ments  would  permit.  Then  I  piled  stones  on  the 
mound .  The  Englishman  helped  me,  and  together 
we  said  a  prayer.  We  did  not  comment  till 
our  work  was  over.  Then  Starling  looked  down 
at  the  mound. 

"  I  wonder  why  he  was  killed  ?  The  others 
surrendered." 

I  shrugged  a  trifle  bitterly.  "He  loved  the 
woman.  It  was  not  her  fault.  I  doubt  that 
she  knew  it,  and  she  could  not  help  it.  But  it 
cost  him  his  life,  for  it  made  him  attempt  to  carry 
a  forlorn  hope.  And  she  never  even  knew.  It  is 
suicide  to  love  a  woman  hopelessly,  monsieur." 

It  was  hideous  when  we  went  back  to  our  seats 
by  the  ashes.  The  sun  had  come  out  hot  and 
nauseating,  and  the  flies  buzzed  horribly.  We 
tried  to  crowd  down  food,  but  we  could  not 
swallow.  We  sat  and  chewed  on  our  despairing 
thoughts,  and  hate  that  was  a  compound  of  phy 
sical  faintness  and  sick  uncertainty  rose  between 
us. 

The  Englishman  took  a  miniature  from  his 
pocket  and  handed  it  to  me. 

"She  gave  it  to  me  herself,"  he  said.  "With 
laughter  and  with  kisses,  monsieur." 


WHAT  I  FOUND  277 

I  tried  to  wave  the  picture  away,  but  I  had  not 
strength  to  resist  looking.  It  was  no  profile  that 
I  saw.  The  brown  eyes  looked  full  in  mine; 
merry  eyes,  challenging,  fun-crowded,  innocent. 
There  were  no  sombre  shadows  there.  There 
was  spirit  in  plenty,  but  no  sorrow.  White 
shoulders  rose  from  clouds  of  pink  gauze,  and 
the  hair  was  powdered  and  pearl -wreathed  and 
piled  high  in  a  coronet.  It  was  not  the  face  of 
the  woman  that  I  knew.  I  said  so,  and  returned 
the  portrait  to  the  Englishman. 

He  could  not  resist  baiting  me.  ;'You  do 
not  like  it,  monsieur?" 

I  shook  my  head.  "It  is  nothing  to  me.  It 
is  the  face  of  a  laughing,  trusting,  untouched 
girl.  I  have  never  seen  her." 

'You  say  that  you  married  her." 

"  Monsieur,  this  is  a  girl.  I  married  a  woman, 
a  woman  matured  by  tragedy.  The  eyes  that 
are  laughing  in  this  portrait  are  wiser  now. 
They  have  seen  the  depths  of  a  man's  treachery. 
But  they  have  not  lost  their  spirit,  no,  nor  their 
tenderness,  monsieur.  You  will  find  little  that 
you  recognize  in  the  woman  who  is  now  my 
wife." 

He  kept  his  composure.  :'You  use  the  word 
'wife'  very  glibly,"  he  said,  with  a  yawn.  "Do 
you  use  it  when  the  lady  is  within  hearing,  as  you 
do  now?" 


278  MONTLIVET 

"She  is  my  wife." 

He  laughed,  for  he  saw  he  had  drawn  blood. 
'Your  wife  in  name,  perhaps,  —  I  grant  you 
that,  —  but  not  in  fact.  Do  you  think  me  blind 
that  I  should  not  see  the  two  cabins.  And  you 
said  that  you  had  never  crossed  the  threshold  of 
the  woman's  room.  I  see  that  I  shall  find  my 
cousin  the  maiden  that  I  left  her,  monsieur." 

I  kept  my  lips  closed.  He  had  indeed  drawn 
blood.  I  could  not  answer.  He  leaned  for 
ward  and  tapped  a  significant  forefinger  on  my 
knee. 

"Remember,  she  has  kissed  me,  monsieur. 
She  has  kissed  me  often  of  her  own  will." 

And  then  my  spirit  did  return.  "That  does 
not  concern  me." 

He  lifted  his  great  lip.      'You  are  indulgent." 

The  flies  buzzed  odiously.  The  Englishman 
was  gloating  over  me,  his  great  head  craned  for 
ward  like  a  buzzard's.  My  brain  took  fire. 

"I  am  not  indulgent,"  I  said  slowly,  with  my 
throat  dry.  "I  am  wise.  She  has  kissed  you, 
yes.  I  have  no  doubt  that  she  has  kissed  you 
many  times,  casually,  lightly,  indifferently.  She 
brushed  the  plumage  of  her  falcon  in  the  same 
way.  You  are  welcome  to  the  memory  of  those 
kisses,  my  lord.  You  may  have  more  like  them 
in  the  future,  and  I  shall  not  say  you  nay.  They 
mean  nothing." 


WHAT  I  FOUND  279 

He  scowled  at  me.  "What  do  you  know  of 
her  kisses  ?  "  he  said  under  his  breath. 

I  looked  him  in  the  eye.  "I  know  this. 
There  is  but  one  kiss  that  means  anything  from 
a  woman,  and  she  gives  it,  if  she  is  the  right 
kind  of  a  woman,  to  but  one  man  in  her  life. 
For  the  rest,  —  I  value  them  no  more  than  the 
brush  of  her  finger-tips.  Tell  me,  have  you 
felt  her  lips  pressed  to  yours  till  her  breath  and 
her  soul  were  one  with  you  ?  Tell  me  that.  An 
swer,  I  say." 

I  had  let  the  cord  of  reason  and  decency  slip. 
I  rose,  and  I  think  that  the  hate  in  my  face  must 
have  been  wolfish,  for  the  man  drew  back.  He 
tried  to  look  contemptuous,  but  I  saw  fear  in  his 
eyes.  Fear  and  something  more,  —  a  sudden 
pain  and  longing.  The  emotion  that  heretofore 
he  had  kept  well  in  hand  trapped  him  for  the 
moment.  I  was  answered.  The  woman  might 
never  be  mine,  but  she  had  never  been  his,  either. 
I  turned  away.  I  was  triumphant,  but  I  loathed 
myself.  I  was  sick  with  the  situation,  and  the 
man  who  had  brought  me  to  it. 

;'You  may  keep  your  kisses,  monsieur,"  I 
said  savagely.  'You  may  keep  them.  But  if 
you  mention  them  to  me  again  I  shall  throttle 
you  where  you  stand." 

The  Englishman  had  felt  the  revulsion,  and 
he  showed  no  resentment  of  my  heat.  He 


280  MONTLIVET 

heaved  himself  up  in  the  hot,  horrible  sunshine 
and  rubbed  his  hands  as  if  washing  them  free. 

"  We  are  curs,"  he  said  quietly. 

I  could  not  say  nay.  "We  must  eat,"  I 
cautioned;  "we  must  eat,  and  keep  ourselves 
sane.  If  we  can  get  through  this  day  without 
murder  or  worse,  we  shall  have  work  to  do  from 
now  on  that  will  serve  to  keep  our  heads  clear. 
Pierre  will  be  coming  soon  now." 

Starling  was  regarding  me  keenly.  ''You 
lose  your  temper,  and  therefore  you  should  be 
easy  to  read,"  he  said  reflectively.  "But  you 
are  not.  You  evidently  married  my  cousin  for 
convenience.  I  can  understand  the  situation. 
But  you  stand  by  your  bargain  well.  You  have 
the  honor  of  your  name  somewhat  sensitively 
at  heart.  But  if  you  had  not  married  her  —  If 
there  were  no  compulsion,  no  outside  reason  — 
tell  me,  would  you  marry  her  now?" 

But  that  I  left  unanswered. 


CHAPTER    XXI 

THE    PIVOT 

PIERRE  came  at  five  o'clock.  He  was  keen  for 
the  approaching  supper  hour  and  came  jovially. 

I  was  sick  with  haste,  and  deep  sunk  in  my 
own  grief,  so  I  was  cruel  and  a  fool;  I  plumped 
the  facts  at  him  without  a  softening  word.  And 
so  I  frustrated  my  own  ends.  The  great,  slow 
creature  cowered  and  grew  dumb  under  my  story. 
Then  he  went,  great-eyed  and  hanging-lipped,  from 
cabin  to  cabin.  I  had  locked  up  his  springs 
of  word  and  thought. 

But  one  thing  my  sword  and  my  words  prodded 
out  of  him.  He  had  come  by  the  portage  path 
from  the  east,  and  had  seen  no  marks  of  passage 
that  were  less  than  a  week  old.  Our  star  led 
west. 

I  baled  what  provision  and  ammunition  we 
needed,  loaded  the  canoes,  and  cached  the  furs 
and  the  balance  of  the  stores  at  the  edge  of  the 
forest.  At  six  o'clock  we  were  afloat.  I  led 
the  way,  and  Pierre  followed  with  the  English 
man.  This  gave  me  space  to  think  in  silence. 

The  sun  sank  red  and  clear,  and  we  paddled 
from  a  colored  dusk  to  a  clear  starlight.  I  knew 


282  MONTLIVET 

this  dimly,  as  the  lost  in  the  inferno  know  the 
barred  joys  above  them.  Unless  we  found  Pem- 
aou  within  the  next  few  hours  I  should  never 
be  one  with  the  loveliness  of  nature  again. 

I  held  my  way  due  west  to  the  Malhominis. 
I  could  secure  their  cooperation,  if  nothing  more. 
Pierre  followed  at  a  canoe  length,  and  we  trav 
eled  unbrokenly.  It  was  an  hour  short  of  mid 
night  when  we  saw  the  west  shore.  I  could  take 
no  bearings  in  the  dim  light,  so  we  nosed  along, 
uncertain  whether  to  go  north  or  south  to  find 
the  mouth  of  the  Wild  Rice  River  where  the 
Malhominis  had  their  home.  We  held  a  short 
colloquy  and  started  northward.  Suddenly 
Pierre  shot  his  canoe  beside  my  own. 

"A  camp! "  he  breathed  in  a  giant  whisper. 

I  suspended  my  paddle.  On  the  shore  to 
the  north  of  us  were  lights.  It  could  not  be  the 
Malhominis,  for  they  lived  inland;  it  was  not 
Pemaou,  for  the  camp  was  many  times  larger 
than  his  would  be.  It  was  probably  a  hunting 
party.  All  the  western  tribes  were  friendly; 
more,  they  were  my  allies.  I  saw  no  necessity  for 
caution.  I  raised  a  long  halloo,  and  our  canoes 
raced  toward  the  lights. 

We  landed  in  a  medley.  Indians  sprang  from 
the  squatting  groups  around  the  fire  and  ran 
to  meet  us.  They  were  black  shapes  that  I 
could  not  recognize.  I  leaped  from  my  canoe 


THE  PIVOT 

and  held  up  my  hand  in  greeting.  But  an  arm 
reached  out  and  tore  my  musket  from  me.  I 
looked  up.  A  leering  Iroquois  stood  over  me. 

I  dropped  my  arms  and  stood  passive.  A 
look  over  my  shoulder  told  me  that  Pierre 
and  Starling  had  been  seized  and  were  fighting 
well. 

"  Caution !  "  I  called.  "  Do  not  resist.  Watch 
me." 

"  Where  are  we  ?  What  does  it  mean  ?  "  Star 
ling  called  back.  His  voice  was  shaking. 

I  held  out  my  arms  to  be  bound.  "The  Iro 
quois!"  I  shouted  to  Pierre  in  dialect.  "I  did 
not  know  there  were  any  within  a  thousand 
miles.  Keep  steady.  Follow  me.  We  may  find 
Pemaou  here." 

The  Indians  bound  us  systematically,  but 
without  undue  elation,  so  that  I  judged  that 
they  had  many  captives.  They  were  Senecas 
and  had  the  look  of  picked  men.  I  understood 
their  speech,  but  beyond  ribald  jests  at  our  ex 
pense  they  said  nothing.  It  was  all  swift,  unreal. 
Owls  hooted  in  the  woods  and  dogs  snarled  at  us. 
The  groups  that  remained  by  the  fire  peered  in 
our  direction,  but  were  too  lethargic  to  come  near. 
I  tried  for  a  word  with  Starling.  I  feared  for  his 
spirit. 

"  They  are  Senecas,"  I  managed  to  say  to  him; 
"the  most  diplomatic  nation  of  the  Iroquois 


284  MONTLIVET 

league.  They  will  not  butcher  us  without  consid 
eration.  Keep  cool." 

He  nodded  with  some  patronage.  He  looked 
impressive,  unshaken;  yet  the  moment  before 
he  had  been  terror-stricken.  I  saw  that  I  did  not 
understand  him,  after  all. 

Having  bound  us,  our  captors  raised  a  shout 
and  shouldered  us  toward  the  camp.  A  young 
brave  capered  before  us,  beating  his  breast  and 
singing.  The  braves  by  the  fire  took  up  the  cry. 

And  so  we  were  pushed  into  the  circle  of  flam 
ing  light.  The  Indians  crowded  to  us,  and  pressed 
their  oily,  grinning  faces  so  near  that  I  felt  their 
breath.  I  stumbled  over  refuse,  and  dirt-crusted 
dogs  blocked  my  way'.  The  mangled  carcass  of 
a  deer  lay  on  the  ground,  and  the  stench  of  fresh 
blood  mingled  with  the  reek  of  the  camp.  Yet 
I  saw  only  one  thing  clearly.  In  the  midst  of  it 
stood  the  woman  and  Singing  Arrow. 

My  relief  caught  at  my  throat,  and  the  cry 
I  gave  was  hoarse  and  strangled.  But  the  wo 
man  heard  it.  My  first  look  had  shown  me  not 
only  that  she  was  unharmed,  but  that  she  was 
undaunted,  that  she  stood  white -faced  in  all  the 
grime,  and  held  herself  above  it,  a  thing  of 
spirit  that  soil  could  not  reach.  Yet  when  she 
saw  me,  the  cry  that  came  from  her  in  answer 
changed  her  from  an  effigy  to  something  so 
warm  and  living  that  I  forgot  where  I  stood, 


THE   PIVOT  285 

and  stopped  my  breath  to  hold  her  gaze  to  mine, 
and  drink  the  moment  to  the  full.  We  stood 
with  captivity  between  us  and  torture  at  our  el 
bow,  but  the  woman  looked  only  at  me,  and  her 
lips  grew  red  and  tremulous,  and  her  breath  came 
fast.  'You  are  safe.  You  are  safe."  I  heard 
the  words  even  among  the  babel,  and  I  pulled 
like  a  wild  animal  at  my  bonds  to  free  myself 
and  reach  her  side. 

But  I  was  held  fast,  and  while  I  struggled  came 
a  mighty  cry  from  behind  me,  "Mary!  Mary! 
Mary!"  Starling's  Goliath  frame  pushed  by 
me,  and  his  captors  were  hurled  like  pygmies  to 
each  side. 

The  woman  was  unprepared.  She  cried  at 
sight  of  him  with  a  deep  throaty  terror  that 
sent  the  blood  to  my  brain.  Starling  would  have 
pressed  himself  to  her,  but  she  put  out  her  un 
bound  arms  and  fended  him  away.  And  then  he 
stood  with  his  great  height  bowed  and  pleaded 
to  her.  I  had  shrugged  at  the  English  for  their 
hard  reserve,  but  when  I  heard  this  man  I  learned 
again  that  it  is  always  the  dammed  torrent  that 
is  to  be  feared.  Even  the  Indians  heard  in  si 
lence. 

The  silence  lasted.  Never  before  nor  since 
have  I  known  savages  to  take  the  background 
and  let  two  whites  play  out  a  tragedy  unchecked. 
But  now  they  formed  a  ring  and  watched. 


286  MONTLIVET 

They  forgot  their  interest  in  me  and  let  me  go. 
I  could  stand  unheeded.  An  old  man  threw 
tinder  on  the  fire,  and  we  saw  each  other's  faces  as 
in  the  searching,  red  light  of  a  storm.  I  watched 
the  cords  in  Starling's  neck  tighten  and  relax  as 
he  talked  on  and  on. 

The  drama  was  in  pantomime  to  me,  as  to 
the  Indians,  for  the  cousins  spoke  in  English. 
But  I  could  understand  the  woman 's  face.  She 
spoke  in  monosyllables,  but  I  could  have  pitied 
any  other  man  for  the  gulf  she  put  between  them 
by  her  look.  She  was  more  than  scornful ;  torn 
and  disheveled  as  she  was,  she  was  cruelly  ra 
diant,  her  eyes  black -lined  and  her  lips  hard. 
She  was  unassailable.  And  when  she  met  her 
kinsman's  eye  I  gloried  in  her  till  I  could  have 
laid  my  cheek  on  the  ground  at  her  feet. 

It  was  plain  they  were  kinsmen.  I  had 
marked  the  strange  blood  resemblance  between 
them  when  I  first  saw  the  man,  and  it  was 
doubly  to  be  noted  now.  It  was  blood  against 
blood  as  they  faced  each  other.  And  it  came 
to  me  that  it  was  more  than  a  personal  duel. 
No  wrong  is  so  unforgivable  as  one  from  our 
own  family  whose  secret  weaknesses  we  know 
and  share,  and  I  felt  that  the  repulsion  in  the 
woman's  eyes  was  part  for  herself  and  part 
for  her  pride  of  race.  Yet  I  was  uncertain  of 
the  issue.  The  tie  of  blood  is  strong,  and  after 


THE   PIVOT  287 

a  few  minutes  I  thought  that  Starling  was  gain 
ing  ground.  His  great  personality  enwrapped  us 
all,  and  his  strange,  compelling  voice  went  on  and 
on  and  on,  pleading,  pleading  in  a  tongue  that 
I  could  not  understand.  His  eyes  never  left  the 
woman's,  and  in  time  hers  fell.  I  tried  to  clench 
my  bound  hands,  for  my  pride  in  her  was  hurt; 
yet  I  could  understand  his  power. 

It  was  just  then  that  the  savages  wearied  of 
the  spectacle  and  hustled  Starling  away.  They 
saw  that  he  was  English,  and  they  unbound  his 
arms,  and  began  to  take  counsel  concerning  him. 
In  a  flash  I  saw  my  path  clear.  They  were 
friendly  to  the  English.  The  woman  was  Eng 
lish.  I  must  not  let  her  identify  herself  with 
me.  And  so  when  her  glance  crept  back  to  me, 
I  was  prepared.  I  would  not  stop  to  read  what 
her  look  might  say.  I  shook  my  head  at  her 
and  dropped  my  eyes.  I  made  the  same  signal 
to  Singing  Arrow.  The  Indian  would  under 
stand  my  motive ;  I  could  not  be  sure  about  the 
woman. 

And  then  I  turned  and  mingled  with  the 
crowd,  with  my  heart  beating  strangely  but  my 
brain  cool.  The  interest  was  centring  in  Star 
ling,  and  the  older  men  had  their  calumets  in 
hand  and  were  preparing  for  the  council.  I  saw 
that  for  a  few  hours  at  least  I  should  have  life 
and  semi-liberty.  There  was  no  possibility 


288  MONTLIVET 

of  my  escape,  so,  bound  as  I  was,  I  was  free  to 
wander  within  limits.  I  would  keep  as  near  the 
women  as  possible  and  try  and  herd  my  faction 
together. 

I  had  been  too  absorbed  to  use  my  eyes,  but 
now  I  saw  that  a  captive  was  lying  near  my  feet. 
He  was  closely  tied  on  two  pieces  of  rough  wood 
shaped  like  a  St.  Andrew's  cross,  and  was  a 
hideous  sight  with  his  tongue  protruding  and 
his  eyes  beginning  to  glaze.  Dogs  were  scram 
bling  and  tearing  at  him,  and  I  edged  nearer  and 
tried  to  drive  them  away.  I  examined  him  as 
closely  as  I  dared,  and  judged  by  the  dressing 
of  his  long  hair  that  he  was  a  Miami.  In  that 
case  the  war  party  must  have  come  from  the 
south  by  way  of  the  Ohio  and  the  Illinois  country, 
and  they  were  probably  working  their  way  north 
to  reach  Michillimackinac  on  its  unguarded  side. 
I  saw  it  was  a  war  party,  for  there  were  no  wo 
men  with  them,  and  the  Iroquois  carry  their  fam 
ilies  on  all  hunting  trips. 

I  looked  at  the  dying  man  and  wished  for  my 
knife.  So  they  tortured  Indian  captives  while 
they  let  me,  a  Frenchman,  go  lightly  bound. 
Well,  my  turn  was  yet  to  come.  My  white  skin 
probably  gave  me  importance  enough  so  that  I 
would  be  referred  to  the  council.  I  would  not 
look  ahead.  I  would  plan  for  the  moment,  and 
open  eyes  and  ears. 


289 

There  were  many  captives,  I  saw  now,  and  my 
anxiety  for  Leclerc  and  Labarthe  grew  keen.  I 
made  my  slow  way  around  the  bound  figures. 
Some  were  pegged  to  the  ground  by  their  out 
stretched  hands  and  feet,  and  some  were  stretched 
on  crosses.  But  all  were  Indians.  I  saw  more 
Miamis,  a  few  Kickapoos,  and  some  whom  I 
did  not  know;  I  learned  later  that  they  were 
Mascoutens.  And  then  I  saw  Labarthe.  He 
was  tied  to  a  tree,  Leclerc  beside  him.  Leclerc, 
who  was  ever  a  fool,  would  have  motioned  to  me, 
but  Labarthe  struck  down  his  arm  and  gave  a 
blank  stare.  So  I  was  able  to  get  near  them. 
They  looked  blood-stained  and  jaded,  but  prac 
tically  unhurt,  and  I  saw  a  half-eaten  chunk  of 
meat  in  Leclerc's  hand.  They  had  been  fed  and 
reasonably  well  treated.  But  that  meant  nothing 
as  guide  to  what  might  come. 

I  had  not  made  my  way  alone.  Starling  was 
the  chief  attraction,  but  I,  too,  was  the  centre  of 
a  curious,  chaffering  crowd.  The  braves  were 
uriwontedly  good-humored,  childishly  pleased 
with  the  evening's  excitement,  and  I  amused 
them  still  further  by  shrugging  at  them  and 
making  great  faces  of  contempt.  When  one 
offered  me  a  meal  cake  I  kicked  at  him  and 
trampled  the  food  into  the  ground,  and  as  I  swag 
gered  away  I  heard  him  tell  the  others  that  I  was 
a  bear  for  courage.  I  could  have  smiled  at  that, 


290  MONTLIVET 

for  I  was  acting  more  like  a  blustering  terrier 
than  any  nobler  animal,  but  I  would  not  let  them 
see  that  I  understood  their  tongue. 

And  so  I  pushed  my  way  about.  But  wher 
ever  I  went,  or  whatever  else  my  eyes  were  doing, 
I  kept  watch  upon  the  woman.  She  stood  quiet 
with  Singing  Arrow  and  waited  for  what  might 
come.  Her  fate  was  hanging  with  Starling's  at 
the  council  ring,  and  I  knew  that  I  must  keep 
away  from  her.  That  was  not  easy.  Each  time 
that  I  let  my  glance  rest  upon  the  foulness  of 
the  camp  I  felt  that  I  must  go  to  her  and  blind 
her  eyes.  But  I  never  made  more  than  one  step. 
I  had  only  to  look  at  her  to  understand  that  her 
spirit  had  learned  in  these  months  to  hold  itself 
above  the  body.  What  was  passing  did  not 
touch  her;  she  lived  in  the  fortress  of  her  splen 
didly  garrisoned  pride.  Singing  Arrow  stood 
equally  aloof,  intrenched  in  her  stoicism,  but  I 
think  the  root  motives  of  the  two  were  different, 
though  the  outside  index  was  the  same.  Indeed, 
we  all  had  different  wellsprings  for  our  com 
posure.  Pierre's  stolidity  was  largely  training. 
Starling's  quiet  might  mean  instinctive  imitation, 
but  I  feared  it  was  something  more  sinister. 
While  mine  —  But  I  had  no  composure.  I 
swaggered  and  shrugged  and  played  harlequin 
and  boaster. 

We  were  soon  to  learn  that  Starling's  quiet 


THE  PIVOT  291 

was  not  impervious.  I  saw  him  start.  His  hand 
flew  to  where  his  knife  had  been,  and  his  teeth 
showed  like  a  jackal's.  A  figure  that  had  lain, 
blanket -shrouded  in  the  shadow,  had  risen  and 
come  forward.  It  was  Pemaou.  He  had  pleased 
his  humor  by  being  an  unseen  auditor  and 
letting  us  play  out  our  various  forms  of  resist 
ance  and  despair  for  his  delight.  Now  he  would 
make  a  dramatic  entry.  He  was  dressed  for  the 
part  in  a  loin  cloth,  a  high  laced  hat  of  scarlet, 
and  the  boots  of  a  captain  of  dragoons.  He 
stopped  before  Starling  and  grinned  silently. 
Then  he  held  his  hat,  French  fashion,  and  made 
a  derisive  bow.  The  Englishman  forgot  his  dig 
nity  and  cursed.  I  wished  that  I  had  been  near 
enough  to  hold  up  a  warning  hand. 

I  knew  my  turn  was  next,  so  was  prepared. 
Pemaou  sought  me,  and  stood  before  me,  but  I 
would  not  see  him;  I  looked  through  him  as 
through  glass.  He  spoke  to  me  in  French,  but 
I  was  deaf.  I  heard  the  Senecas  grunt  with 
amusement. 

Pemaou  heard  it  too,  and  his  war  plume  quiv 
ered.  He  gave  an  order  in  Huron,  and  one  of 
his  men  came  behind  me  and  unbound  my  hands. 
I  could  have  jeered  at  the  childishness  of  his  open 
purpose.  He  hoped  that,  with  my  hands  free, 
I  would  spring  at  him,  impotent  and  vengeful 
as  a  caged  rattlesnake,  and  that  then  he  could 


292  MONTLIVET 

turn  me  over  to  the  sport  and  torture  of  the  mob. 
I  stretched  my  freed  arms,  laughed  to  myself,  and 
turned  away.  My  laugh  was  genuine.  It  was 
wine  to  me  that  he  should  have  shown  weakness 
in  this  fashion,  when  in  some  ways  he  had  proved 
himself  a  better  general  than  I.  It  was  a  small 
victory,  but  it  cheered  me. 

I  do  not  know  how  long  the  council  lasted,  but 
it  seemed  hours.  The  old  men  rose  at  last,  and 
going  to  Starling,  patted  him,  grunted  over  him, 
and  examined  him.  I  could  not  hear  what  they 
said,  but  it  was  evidently  pacific;  they  led  him  off 
in  the  direction  of  the  largest  lodge. 

And  then  came  the  woman's  turn.  I  knew 
that  my  face  was  strained,  though  I  strove  to  keep 
it  sneering.  I  saw  the  oldest  man  give  instruc 
tions,  then  he  went  to  the  two  women  and  pointed 
the  way  before  him.  I  pushed  along  as  best  I 
could.  He  took  them  to  a  small  hut  of  bark  and 
motioned  them  within,  while  he  himself  dropped 
the  mat  in  front  of  the  opening.  They  were  safe 
for  that  night  at  least. 

The  savages  were  wearied  now  and  turned  to 
Pierre  and  me  with  yawn  s .  They  m  ad  e  short  work 
of  us.  I  was  bound  to  the  arm  of  a  stout  warrior, 
and  he  dragged  me  under  a  tree  and  dropped  on 
the  ground .  He  was  snoring  before  I  had  finished 
building  a  barricade  of  cloak  between  us  to  keep 
as  much  as  possible  of  his  touch  and  smell  away. 


THE  PIVOT  293 

The  camp  quieted  rapidly,  and  I  soon  had 
only  silence  between  me  and  the  stars.  My 
mind  was  active  but  curiously  placid.  Inch  by 
inch  I  went  over  the  ground  of  the  last  twenty- 
four  hours.  I  stated  the  case  to  myself  as  a 
foreigner  translates  a  lesson.  It  is  sometimes  a 
help  to  put  a  situation  in  the  concrete,  to  phrase 
it  as  to  a  stranger.  In  that  way  you  stand  aloof 
and  see  new  light.  So  I  put  the  matter  in  cate 
gory,  sharing  it  with  the  stars,  and  with  the  back 
of  the  snoring  Indian. 

We  were  in  Pemaou's  hands.  He  had  known 
that  the  Iroquois  were  coming;  had  probably 
known  it  months  before,  and  had  instigated  this 
campaign.  He  wished  an  alliance  with  the  Eng 
lish,  and,  though  he  could  work  to  that  end 
through  the  Iroquois,  he  would  find  an  English 
prisoner  a  material  aid.  I  could  see  how  useful 
I  had  been  to  him  in  keeping  the  Englishwoman 
away  from  Michillimackinac,  —  where  he  would 
have  had  ado  to  hold  his  title  of  possession  to  her, 
—  and  I  could  not  but  respect  the  skill  with 
which  he  had  timed  his  blow,  and  brought  her  to 
the  Iroquois  camp  at  the  right  moment.  Yes, 
I  had  served  him  well,  from  the  time  when  I  had 
assisted  him  to  hear  Longuant's  speech  in  the 
Ottawa  camp  to  the  present  hour.  The  accident 
that  had  strengthened  him  still  further  by  throw 
ing  Lord  Starling  into  his  hands  he  also  owed  to 


294  MONTLIVET 

me.  But  I  looked  up  at  the  stars  and  did  not 
lose  courage.  The  game  was  not  over;  the  score 
was  yet  to  be  paid. 

I  had  many  plans  to  arrange.  Day  was  com 
ing,  and  I  watched  the  horizon  breaking  and 
felt  that  the  morning  would  bring  new  opportu 
nity. 

And  then,  just  as  I  needed  all  my  wit  and  pre 
sence,  I  fell  into  a  deep,  exhausted  sleep. 


CHAPTER   XXII 

THE    PRICE    OF   SLEEP 

I  DO  not  know  that,  after  all,  I  can  call  that  sleep 
which  fell  upon  me.  Sleep  is  merely  a  blessed 
veiling  of  the  faculties ;  this  was  collapse,  deadness. 
The  Indian  beside  me  must  have  been  equally 
worn,  for  he  lay  like  a  log.  We  were  huddled 
close  to  a  tree,  so  were  unnoticed,  or  at  least 
undisturbed.  The  sun  was  hours  high  when  I 
opened  my  eyes. 

I  sprang  to  my  feet,  dragging  the  Indian  to  his 
knees.  He  grunted,  rubbed  his  eyes,  and  feel 
ing  sluggish  and  uncomfortable  from  the  warmth 
of  the  morning,  found  me  an  incubus.  He 
grunted  again,  untied  the  thongs  that  bound  us, 
and  went,  stretching  and  yawning,  to  find  his 
breakfast. 

I  stood  for  a  moment  marshaling  my  wits.  The 
bright  day  and  the  noise  confused  me,  for  I  had 
been  deep  sunk  in  unconsciousness,  and  grasped 
the  real  world  unsteadily.  The  camp  was  even 
larger  than  the  night  had  shown,  and  it  took  some 
looking  to  find  the  woman's  lodge.  It  was  empty ; 
the  mat  was  pulled  down  from  before  the  door. 

I  should  have  expected  nothing  else,  for  the 


296  MONTLIVET 

morning  was  far  advanced,  but  I  felt  baffled, 
belated,  like  one  whose  long  unconsciousness 
had  carried  him  hopelessly  out  of  touch  with  his 
surroundings.  Most  of  the  Indians  were  gathered 
at  the  shore,  and  I  made  my  way  toward  them. 
I  went  but  slowly,  for  I  had  to  feign  indifference. 
I  knew  that  every  step  was  watched.  Perhaps 
the  woman  herself  was  watching.  I  burned  with 
shame  to  think  she  should  have  seen  me  sleep 
so  soddenly.  I  expected  every  moment  to  see 
her  in  the  crowd. 

But  when  I  reached  the  beach  the  crowd  was 
straying  as  if  the  excitement  were  over.  Far 
out  on  the  water  to  the  northeast  was  a  flotllia 
of  canoes  fast  disappearing.  Whom  did  they 
carry  ?  Had  they  left  from  the  camp  ?  I  cursed 
myself  for  my  lost  hours.  The  threads  of  the 
situation  had  slipped  from  my  hand,  and  all  my 
feeling  of  competence  and  hope  of  the  night  be 
fore  had  gone  with  them.  I  could  see  no  sign  of 
the  woman  nor  of  Starling.  Pierre's  red  head 
was  a  beacon,  but  I  dared  not  go  to  him.  He 
was  bending  over  a  caldron  of  boiling  meat, 
and  I  saw  that  my  man  was  himself  again,  and 
that  the  trencher  called  him  more  winningly  than 
any  voice  of  mine.  I  shrugged,  and  went  to  the 
beach  to  make  what  toilet  I  could.  The  cold 
water  recreated  me.  I  was  more  a  man  when  1 
strolled  back  in  the  crowd. 


THE  PRICE  OF  SLEEP  297 

And  then  I  saw  Labarthe.  He  was  unbound 
and  mingling  with  the  Indians.  Leclerc  was 
close  beside  him,  shuffling  and  docile;  he,  too, 
was  free,  as  was  Pierre.  Four  of  us,  and  our 
hands  at  liberty.  This  looked  better.  I  hummed 
a  tune,  clapped  a  brave  on  the  shoulder,  and 
motioned  him  to  bring  me  meat  and  meal. 
But  where  was  the  woman  ? 

I  saw  Labarthe  working  toward  me  with  his 
eyes  the  other  way,  so  I  knew  he  had  news.  He 
was  nimbler  witted  than  Pierre,  though  less 
valuable  on  a  long  stretch.  I  dreaded  Leclerc, 
for  he  could  not  be  trusted  even  for  good  sense, 
and  I  heartily  wished  him  elsewhere.  But  Pierre 
came  to  the  rescue;  he  called  Leclerc  boldly, 
and  drew  him  to  the  meat  caldron.  I  was  sat 
isfied.  Three  of  us  were  working  in  unison,  — 
and  we  had  worked  together  in  this  way  before, 
and  won.  But  where  were  Pemaou,  and  Starling, 
and  the  woman? 

Labarthe  made  his  way  near,  and  stood  with 
his  back  toward  me.  I  remembered  a  roundelay 
that  we  had  sung  in  camp.  I  whistled  it,  pick 
ing,  in  the  meantime,  at  the  bone  the  Indian  had 
brought.  I  whistled  the  tune  once,  twice,  sev 
eral  times.  Then  I  fitted  words  to  it. 

"  Where  is  the  woman  ?  Where  is  the  English 
man  ?  Tell  me."  I  sang  the  words  boldly,  but 
in  bastard  French  with  clipped  accents.  I  feared 


298  MONTLIVET 

that  among  all  these  Senecas  there  might  be  one 
or  more  who  had  some  smattering  of  the  French 
tongue. 

Labarthe  did  not  answer  at  once  nor  look 
around,  so  I  went  on  singing.  Nonsense  words 
now,  with  no  coherence  or  meaning,  and  all  in 
French  that  a  cowherd  would  have  been  ashamed 
to  own. 

I  worked  at  last  to  a  crescendo  of  sound  that 
gave  Labarthe  his  cue.  He  turned  and  laughed, 
as  if  noticing  me  for  the  first  time.  He  cocked 
his  head  like  a  game  bird,  planted  his  legs  apart, 
and  joined  the  song.  He  had  the  biggest  voice 
from  Montreal  to  Chambly,  and  he  sung  with  full 
lung  power  and  at  breathless  speed.  It  was  a 
torrent  of  sound ;  my  ears  were  strained  to  fol 
low  it. 

"Five  large  canoes  left  this  morning,"  he 
warbled.  "They  carried  madame,  the  English 
man,  Pemaou,  and  his  Hurons,  and  a  detach 
ment  of  the  Senecas,  —  some  seventy-five  in  all. 
They  went  to  Michillimackinac." 

The  news  hit  me  like  a  bullet,  and  I  must 
have  whitened,  but  I  kept  on  singing.  I  nodded 
at  Labarthe,  and  sang,  I  think,  of  spring  and 
running  brooks.  Then  I  flung  a  jeer  at  him 
and  ate  my  breakfast.  I  ate  it  systematically 
and  stolidly,  though  it  would  not  have  tempted 
any  but  a  starving  man.  I  was  a  fool  and  a  dull- 


THE  PRICE  OF  SLEEP  299 

ard.  I  had  slept  away  my  opportunities,  and  I 
could  not  see  that  my  strength  was  important  to 
any  one.  But  I  determined  to  preserve  it. 

If  I  kept  up  jest  and  laughter  for  the  next 
hours  —  and  I  have  some  memory  that  I  did  — 
it  was  automatic.  For  I  more  nearly  touched 
despair  than  ever  before.  I  did  not  need  the 
sentences  that  I  picked  up  further  among  the 
Indians  to  tell  me  what  had  happened.  The 
Senecas,  under  Pemaou's  guidance,  had  gone 
to  Michillimackinac ;  had  put  their  heads  into 
the  bear's  mouth,  and  yet  were  as  safe  as  in  their 
own  village,  for  the  bear's  teeth  were  drawn, 
and  the  Senecas  were  armored.  They  traveled 
with  Pemaou,  and  they  had  two  English  prison 
ers.  That  insured  them  protection  from  the 
Hurons,  who  desired  the  English  alliance  and 
had  leanings  toward  the  Iroquois.  As  to  the 
Ottawas,  — there  was  Singing  Arrow  as  hostage. 
It  was  significant  that  the  Senecas  had  allowed 
Singing  Arrow  to  go  unbound.  They  desired 
an  alliance  with  the  Ottawas.  I  remembered 
Longuant's  speech,  and  his  indicated  policy  of 
casting  his  strength  with  the  winning  side,  and  I 
thought  it  probable  they  would  succeed. 

And  if  they  succeeded  ?  Well,  Cadillac  had 
his  two  hundred  regulars.  Yet  he  could  not 
hope  to  win,  and  he  would  do  what  he  could  to 
hold  off  the  necessity  of  trying.  He  would  not 


300  MONTLIVET 

dare  seize  the  Senecas.  No,  the  league  of  the 
Long  House  had  won.  Their  braves  could  sit  in 
our  garrison  at  their  leisure  and  exchange  peace 
belts  with  our  Indians  under  our  eyes.  I  set 
my  teeth  and  wondered  what  part  Starling  had 
played  in  it  all.  He  had  grown  curiously  at  ease 
when  he  had  found  himself  in  an  Iroquois  camp. 
I  had  no  choice  but  to  believe  that  Pemaou  had 
tricked  and  deceived  him,  as  he  had  said,  but 
that  did  not  mean  that  he  had  not  been  in  league 
with  Pemaou  in  the  beginning.  Pemaou  was  cap 
able  of  tricking  a  confederate.  No  Englishman 
understands  an  Indian,  and  if  he  had  patron 
ized  Pemaou  the  Huron  would  have  retaliated  in 
just  this  way.  I  grew  sick  with  the  maze  of  my 
thought.  But  one  thing  I  grasped.  With  part 
of  the  Senecas  in  the  French  camp,  we  French 
men  would  be  spared  for  a  time.  We  would  be 
convenient  for  exchange,  or  to  exact  terms  of 
compromise.  They  might  torture  us,  but  they 
would  keep  us  alive  till  the  issue  of  this  expedi 
tion  was  known. 

All  about  me  were  preparations  for  a  perma 
nent  camp.  This  puzzled  me  for  a  time,  but  I 
soon  worked  out  the  reason.  They  were  afraid 
to  march  with  their  full  force  on  Michillimacki- 
nac,  for  they  feared  the  friendship  of  the  western 
tribes  for  the  French,  and  thought  that  if  a  large 
war  party  marched  openly  toward  the  garrison 


THE  PRICE  OF  SLEEP  301 

these  tribes  would  rally  to  Cadillac's  defense. 
So  this  camp  was  kept  as  watch-dog  for  the 
western  region.  I  prayed  that  Cadillac  keep  his 
judgment  cool. 

One  thing  brought  smiles  that  I  had  to  turn 
into  vacant  and  misleading  laughter.  Through 
all  the  talk  ran  my  name,  —  that  they  did  not 
know  was  mine.  They  had  heard  that  I  was 
stirring  among  the  western  tribes,  and  that  I  was 
making  them  dangerous.  They  spoke  of  my 
knowledge  of  Indian  tongues,  and  added  apocry 
phal  tales  of  my  feats  of  wit  and  daring.  My 
image  loomed  large,  and  it  was  no  wonder  that 
they  did  not  connect  this  mythical  Colossus  with 
the  swaggering  royster  who  played  buffoon  for 
their  mirth.  I  wondered  that  Pemaou  had  not 
told  them,  but  I  reflected  that  there  is  a  mutual 
distrust  among  Indians  that  takes  the  place  of 
reticence,  and  that  that  had  saved  me.  I  had 
escaped  for  the  moment,  but  the  ice  was  thin. 
I  should  be  given  short  shrift  once  my  name  was 
known. 

The  day  passed,  warm  and  lovely  in  the  woods 
and  on  the  water,  hideous  and  sweltering  in  the 
stench  of  the  camp.  I  saw  captives  die  of  heat 
and  flies,  but  I  could  do  nothing.  My  men  took 
cue  from  me,  and  we  all  laughed  and  chaffered. 
I  even  took  a  turn  at  spear  throwing,  but  was  too 
discreet  to  win.  I  gained  some  good-will,  per- 


302  MONTLIVET 

haps,  but  nothing  more,  and  when  the  stars  came 
out  that  night  I  ground  my  teeth  to  think  of 
how  little  I  had  accomplished,  and  of  the  slender 
opportunity  ahead. 

But  the  next  morning  I  saw  a  straw  to  grasp. 
Up  to  that  time  we  had  been  left  to  the  guardian 
ship  of  all  the  camp,  but  the  second  day  I  saw 
that  the  huge  brave  to  whom  I  was  tied  at  night 
followed  me  incessantly.  I  watched,  and  saw 
that  my  men  had  similar  attendants.  This  was 
a  gain,  as  I  said  to  Labarthe.  I  did  not  try  to 
have  connected  speech  with  the  men,  but  by  say 
ing  a  word  at  a  time  as  we  passed  we  could  patch 
together  a  few  sentences. 

From  that  on  I  gave  the  day  to  winning  my 
special  jailer.  He  was  an  intelligent  Indian  and 
inclined  to  be  good-humored.  I  amused  him,  and 
when  I  took  a  net  and  motioned  that  we  go  to 
the  swamp  to  fish  he  grunted  and  agreed. 

The  swamp  lay  on  the  north  of  the  camp,  and 
was,  I  was  sure,  part  of  the  great  rice  field  on 
which  the  Malhominis  had  their  village  to  the 
west.  The  swamp  was  flooded  so  that  it  would 
bear  a  canoe,  and  it  teemed  with  fish.  I  took 
the  net,  —  it  was  ingeniously  woven  of  nettles 
pounded  to  a  fibre  and  then  spun  into  cords,  - 
and  showed  the  Indian  how  to  swing  it  across 
an  eddy  and  draw  it  under  with  a  swift,  circular 
sweep  that  would  entangle  any  fish.  I  had  sue- 


THE  PRICE  OF  SLEEP  303 

cess,  and  the  Indian  warmed  to  the  sport  and 
tried  it  himself.  He  could  not  do  it;  he  could 
not  get  the  twist  of  the  hand  that  was  the  whole 
secret,  and  I  had  to  show  him  again.  He  im 
proved  and  grew  ambitious.  A  few  braves  wan 
dered  over  to  look  at  us,  but  my  jailer  was  jeal 
ous  of  his  new  accomplishment,  and  we  took  a 
canoe  and  paddled  out  of  sight.  We  spent  most 
of  the  day  in  the  swamp. 

That  evening  I  went  boldly  to  Pierre  and  said 
a  few  swift  words.  I  told  him  to  keep  as  near 
the  swamp  as  possible,  and  to  tell  the  other  men 
to  do  the  same.  In  about  two  days,  if  my  plans 
carried,  we  should  be  able  to  accomplish  some 
thing.  In  the  meantime  they  must  appear  con 
tented,  and  try  for  the  confidence  of  their  guards. 

Now  my  plan  was  simple.  I  had  in  my  shirt 
the  bottle  of  laudanum  that  all  traders  carry, 
and  it  was  my  only  weapon.  Pierre  had  shown 
me  a  small  flask  of  rum  which  the  Indians  had 
not  discovered,  and  which  he  had  had  the  unex 
pected  self-control  to  leave  untouched.  I  hoped 
that  when  my  Indian  had  learned  the  casting  of 
his  net  his  vanity  could  be  played  on  to  invite 
the  other  Frenchmen  and  their  guards  to  see  his 
prowess,  and  that  we  should  then  have  opportu 
nity  to  treat  the  Indians  to  the  laudanum-dosed 
rum.  It  was  a  crazy  scheme,  but  worth  a  trial. 
If  we  could  get  possession  of  the  canoe,  there 


304  MONTLIVET 

was  some  hope  that  we  could  make  our  way  to 
the  Malhominis  village. 

No  teacher  was  ever  more  zealous  than  I  for 
my  net-thrower.  Early  the  next  morning  I 
winked  toward  the  swamp,  and  jerked  my  thumb 
over  my  shoulder.  The  Indian  came  willingly. 
Why  should  he  not  ?  I  was  unarmed,  and  he 
had  knife  and  hatchet  and  was  my  peer  in 
strength.  He  thought  me  a  strange  fool,  but 
useful. 

But  that  morning  the  lesson  went  badly.  The 
Indian  was  clumsy,  and  being  ashamed  of  him 
self,  grew  surly  and  indifferent.  The  sun  was 
hot,  the  water  dazzling,  and  mosquitoes  rose  in 
clouds.  The  Indian  wanted  to  go  back  to  camp, 
and  I  cudgeled  my  wits  for  expedients  to  keep 
him  there. 

And  then  I  bethought  me  of  an  accomplish 
ment  which  I  had  shown  Indians  before.  Quick 
ness  of  hand  is  my  greatest  resource,  and  I  had 
been  known  to  noose  a  fish.  I  tore  my  handker 
chief  in  ribands,  made  a  weighted  sling,  and  had 
the  Indian  swing  the  canoe  over  a  ripple  where  a 
great  bass  lay.  I  waited  my  time,  then  plunged 
my  hand  down  with  the  weighted  noose.  I  drew 
it  up,  with  the  fish  caught  through  the  gills. 

The  Indian  was  pleased.  He  grunted  and  ex 
claimed  in  his  own  speech,  though  he  thought  I 
could  not  understand. 


THE  PRICE  OF  SLEEP  305 

"They  say  the  Frenchman,  Montlivet,  can  do 
that."  Then  he  looked  at  me  and  light  dawned. 
"You  are  Montlivet!" 

I  wasted  no  time.  I  do  not  know  how  I  did  it, 
but  I  sprang  the  length  of  the  canoe  and  was  on 
him  before  he  could  reach  his  knife.  The  canoe 
rocked,  but  righted  itself.  I  knotted  my  fingers 
in  the  Indian's  throat,  and  my  body  pinioned  his 
arms. 

The  surprise  of  my  attack  gave  me  a  second's 
vantage,  and  in  it  I  snatched  at  the  vial  in  my 
shirt,  and  drew  the  stopper  with  my  teeth.  It 
was  difficult,  for  the  great,  naked  frame  was  writh 
ing  under  me,  and  the  canoe  pitched  like  a  cork 
in  an  eddy.  I  felt  the  Indian's  hot  breath,  and 
his  teeth  snapping  to  reach  me.  His  arm  was 
working  free  and  his  knife  unsheathed.  I  threw 
my  whole  weight  on  his  chest,  released  my  clutch 
on  his  neck,  and  taking  both  hands,  forced 
his  mouth  open  and  dashed  the  contents  of  my 
laudanum  vial  down  his  throat.  Then  I  sprang 
into  the  water,  dragging  Indian  and  canoe  after 
me. 

I  felt  the  slash  of  a  knife  in  my  right  shoulder 
as  I  touched  the  water,  and  the  Indian's  wiry 
grasp  on  my  coat.  I  rolled  and  grappled  with 
him,  and  the  canoe  floated  away.  Hugging  each 
other  like  twining  water  snakes,  we  sank  down 
through  the  reeds  to  the  slimy  ooze  of  the  bottom. 


306  MONTLIVET 

Down  there  we  wrestled  for  a  second,  blinded 
and  choking.  Then  self-love  conquered  hate, 
and  we  kicked  ourselves  free  and  spluttered  to 
the  surface.  My  shoulder  was  stinging,  and  I 
could  not  tell  how  long  I  could  depend  on  it. 
I  made  a  desperate  stroke  or  two,  dived,  and  put 
myself  in  the  cover  of  the  reeds. 

The  Indian  splashed  after  me,  but  the  water 
flowed  through  the  reeds  in  a  dozen  channels,  and 
he  took  the  wrong  one.  He  would  find  his  mis 
take  in  a  moment.  I  swam  a  few  paces  under 
water,  then  lay  quiet,  holding  myself  up  by  the 
reeds,  and  keeping  my  mouth  to  the  air.  Piece 
by  piece  I  freed  myself  of  my  clothing  and  let 
it  drop.  The  cut  in  my  shoulder  was  raw  and 
made  me  faint.  It  was  not  dangerous,  but  deep 
enough  to  give  me  trouble,  and  would  make  my 
swimming  slow,  if,  indeed,  I  could  swim  at  all. 
I  felt  the  water  swash  against  me  and  knew  the 
Indian  was  swimming  back.  There  was  only  a 
thin  wall  of  reeds  between  us,  and  in  a  moment 
he  would  come  to  where  the  channels  joined  and 
see  my  floating  garments.  I  could  not  stop  to 
secure  them,  though  I  had  hoped  to  tie  them  in  a 
bundle  on  my  back.  I  dropped  under  the  water 
and  swam  away. 

I  have  often  marveled  how  I  distanced  that 
Indian  so  easily.  It  may  have  been  his  discom 
fort  from  the  opiate,  though  I  have  never  known 


THE  PRICE  OF  SLEEP  307 

how  much  of  what  I  splashed  over  him  went  into 
his  mouth,  nor  what  effect  it  had.  But  after  a 
little  I  heard  no  sound  of  pursuit.  I  thought 
that  perhaps  the  Indian  had  gone  back  to  spread 
the  alarm,  and  I  took  no  risks.  I  swam  as  fast 
as  I  had  strength,  resting  occasionally  by  holding 
on  to  the  reeds,  and  trying  to  keep  my  course  due 
northwest. 

And  hour  by  hour  passed,  and  still  I  kept  on 
swimming.  It  was  torture  after  the  first.  I  could 
rest  as  often  as  I  needed,  but  the  cold  water  pal 
sied  me,  and  I  feared  cramp.  My  shoulder  was 
feverish,  and  the  pain  of  it  sapped  my  strength. 
Occasionally  I  found  a  log  tangled  in  the  reeds, 
and  I  pulled  myself  up  on  it  into  the  sun.  If  I  had 
not  been  able  to  do  that  I  could  not  have  gone  on. 

With  chill  and  fever  and  pain  I  had  light 
headed  intervals.  These  came  as  the  afternoon 
waned,  arid  while  they  lasted  I  thought  that  the 
woman  was  in  the  Seneca  camp,  and  that  I  must 
get  back  to  her.  Then  I  would  turn  and  swim 
with  the  current,  losing  in  a  few  minutes  as  much 
as  I  had  gained  in  double  the  time.  Fortunately 
these  seizures  were  brief,  but  they  would  leave 
me  sick  and  shaken  and  grasping  the  reeds  for 
support.  Another  illusion  came  at  this  time:  I 
would  hear  the  woman  calling,  calling  my  name. 
Sometimes  she  cried  that  I  had  forsaken  her. 
That  left  me  weaker  than  the  fever  of  my  wound. 


308  MONTLIVET 

It  was  impossible  to  see  where  I  was  going, 
for  the  reeds  were  high  above  my  head,  but  so 
long  as  my  reason  lasted  I  steered  by  the  sun. 
I  presume  that  I  doubled  many  times,  and  lost 
much  space,  but  that  I  do  not  know,  for  toward 
the  end  I  traveled  like  an  automaton.  I  could 
not  fix  my  mind  on  where  I  was  going  or  why, 
but  I  kept  repeating  to  myself  that  I  must  push 
against  the  current,  and  so,  though  I  lost  the  idea 
at  times,  and  found  myself  drifting,  I  think  that 
I  went  some  distance  after  my  brain  had  ceased 
to  direct. 

And  then  I  found  peace.  My  mind,  freed 
of  the  burden  of  thinking  of  its  surroundings, 
turned  to  the  woman.  She  called  to  me,  talked 
to  me,  sometimes  she  walked  the  reeds  at  my 
side.  She  was  all  smiles  and  lightness,  and  her 
tongue  had  never  a  barb.  I  forgot  to  struggle. 
The  narrow  channel  where  I  had  been  fight 
ing  my  way  opened  now  into  a  broader  passage, 
and  the  current  flowed  under  me  like  an  uplift 
ing  hand.  The  woman's  voice  called  me  from 
down-stream;  I  turned  on  my  back,  and  floated, 
dreamy  and  expectant,  toward  the  river's  mouth. 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

I   ENCOUNTER   MIXED    MOTIVES 

I  WAS  called  to  semi-consciousness  by  the  tin 
kling  clamor  of  small  bells,  and  by  feeling  my 
feet  caught  in  something  clinging  yet  yielding. 
Then  my  body  swung  into  it.  It  was  a  web.  I 
pulled  at  it,  and  tried  to  brush  it  away.  And 
all  the  while  the  bells  kept  ringing,  ringing.  A 
shower  of  arrows  fell  around  me,  and  one  grazed 
my  foot. 

A  man  must  be  far  gone  indeed  when  an  arrow 
point  will  not  sting  him  to  life.  I  was  no  longer 
a  fever-riven  log  of  driftwood.  I  knew  where  I 
was  and  what  was  happening.  I  had  reached 
the  Malhominis  village.  Working  through  the 
rice  swamp,  I  had  come  into  the  main  river  too 
far  to  the  west,  but  following  the  woman's  voice 
I  had  floated  back.  I  was  caught  in  one  of  the 
nets  that  the  Malhominis  strung  with  small  bells, 
and  stretched  across  the  stream  to  keep  both  fish 
and  enemies  in  bounds.  I  set  my  teeth  hard. 

"It  is  Montlivet.     It  is  Month  vet,"  I  called. 

Had  I  thought  the  Malhominis  stolid  and 
none  too  intelligent!  They  heard  me  call,  they 
pushed  a  canoe  to  my  rescue,  and  they  carried 


310  MONTLIVET 

me  to  a  warm  lodge.  I  remember  that  I  ban 
died  words  with  them  as  they  carried  me.  They 
made  sport  to  see  me  naked,  for  on  my  former 
visit  I  had  rebuked  them  severely  on  that  score. 
But  they  were  tender  of  my  shoulder. 

The  time  for  the  next  few  hours  —  indeed 
for  the  night  —  is  confused.  My  shoulder  was 
dressed  and  bound  with  herbs,  and  I  was  laid 
on  a  bed  of  rushes.  Outchipouac,  the  Malho- 
minis  war  chief,  knew  from  former  acquaintance 
with  me  that  I  had  prejudices  and  would  not  lie 
where  it  was  not  clean,  and  so  he  humored  me 
and  gave  orders  that  the  rushes  be  freshly  cut. 
By  this  I  knew  that  he  had  not  only  respect  for 
me,  but  something  that  was  like  affection,  since 
savages  are  indolent  and  intolerant,  and  will  not 
bestir  themselves  for  Europeans  unless  they  are 
unwontedly  interested.  I  treasured  this  kind 
ness.  One  meets  little  that  savors  of  personal 
regard  in  the  wilderness,  and  I  was  ill. 

Now,  savages  know  little  of  the  laws  of  health 
and  abuse  what  they  know,  but  in  the  matter 
of  herbs  they  can  be  trusted.  The  herb  drink 
which  they  gave  me  had  virtue,  for  I  woke  with 
my  head  clear.  A  gourd  of  water  stood  beside 
my  pallet,  and  I  drained  it  and  called  lustily 
for  another.  A  man  pushed  aside  the  skins  and 
came  in.  It  was  Pierre.  Pierre,  alive,  clothed, 
and  with  every  hair  of  his  flamingo  head  bristling 


MIXED  MOTIVES  311 

and  unharmed!  He  answered  my  cry  with  a 
huge  smile,  and  then  because  he  had  a  gypsy 
mother  in  the  background  of  his  nature,  he  put 
his  great  hands  before  his  face,  and  I  saw  tears 
pushing  between  the  ringers. 

That  made  me  fear  ill  news.  I  half  rose,  and 
would  have  shaken  his  tidings  out  of  him  like 
corn  out  of  a  bag.  But  the  pain  of  my  shoulder 
sent  me  back  again  with  my  teeth  jammed  hard 
together. 

"  What  has  happened  ?     Out  with  it ! "  I  cried. 

But  Pierre  was  inarticulate.  He  came  to  my 
pallet  and  mumbled  something  between  tears 
about  my  shoulder. 

—  "and  the  master  with  no  clothes  but  a 
dirty  Indian's!"  he  finished. 

So  I  was  the  cause  of  this  demonstration.  I 
patted  his  hand. 

"But  your  escape,  Pierre?  Where  are  the 
other  men  ?" 

"Master,  I  do  not  know." 

"But  where  did  you  come  from?  How  did 
you  get  here?  Talk,  man!" 

'The  master  does  not  give  me  time.  I  came 
by  land.  It  is  a  fine  land.  They  raise  great 
squashes.  Yes,  and  grain  and  vegetables!  I 
have  never  seen  their  like  in  France.  If  I  had  a 
farm  here  I  could  have  more  than  I  could  eat  the 
whole  year  round." 


312  MONTLIVET 

I  took  time  to  curse.  I  had  never  heard  my 
giant  prate  of  agriculture ;  the  camp  and  the  tap 
room  had  been  his  haunts.  This  appeared  to 
be  a  method  of  working  toward  ill  news.  I  lay 
back  on  my  rushes  and  tried  to  fix  his  eye. 

"Pierre,  answer.     Where  is  Labarthe?" 

"I  told  the  master  "- 

"Answer!" 

"I  don't  know." 

"Did  he  escape  with  you?" 

Pierre  rubbed  his  sleeve  across  his  face. 
"The  master  will  not  listen.  I  do  not  know 
about  Labarthe.  I  saw  him  at  camp  yesterday 
morning.  The  master  saw  him  at  the  same 
time.  Then  the  master  went  to  the  swamp,  and 
I  went,  too,  with  my  Indian.  But  I  kept  behind. 
By  and  by  I  saw  the  canoe  upside  down,  and 
the  master's  cloak  floating  on  the  water;  by  that 
I  knew  that  the  master  was  drowned  or  had  got 
away.  I  thought  he  had  gone  to  the  Malho- 
minis,  and  I  wanted  to  go,  too.  So  I  killed  my 
Indian,  and  hid  him  in  the  grass.  I  came  by 
land." 

I  rose  on  my  elbow,  careless  of  my  shoulder. 
"  How  could  you  kill  the  Indian  ?  You  had  no 
weapon." 

Pierre  stretched  out  his  arms,  knotted  like  an 
oak's  branches,  and  illustrated.  "  I  hugged  him. 
Once  I  broke  the  ribs  of  a  bear." 


MIXED  MOTIVES  313 

I  lay  and  wagged  my  head  like  an  old  man 
who  hears  of  warlpcks  and  witch  charms,  and 
knows  the  tales  to  be  true.  The  stupefying 
simplicity  of  it!  If  you  want  a  thing,  take  it. 
Pierre  wanted  to  follow  me,  so  he  killed  his 
guard  and  came.  That  was  all  there  was  of 
it.  I  looked  at  him  long,  my  head  still  wagging. 
He  had  done  this  sort  of  thing  before.  I  had 
never  understood  it.  It  was  this  that  I  meant 
when  I  had  called  Pierre,  dull  of  wit  as  he  seemed, 
the  most  useful  of  my  men. 

I  lay  all  day  on  my  pallet,  and  Outchipouac 
served  me  with  his  own  hands. 

"It  is  thus  that  we  treat  those  whom  we  de 
light  to  honor,"  he  said,  and  he  held  the  gourd 
to  my  lips  and  wiped  my  face  with  a  square  of 
linen  that  some  trader  had  left  in  camp.  He 
would  give  me  no  solid  food,  but  dosed  me  with 
brewed  herbs  and  great  draughts  of  steaming 
broth.  The  juggler  looked  into  the  lodge  and 
would  have  tried  his  charms  on  me,  but  Outchi 
pouac  sent  him  away. 

A  storm  rose  toward  night,  and  I  heard  the 
knocking  of  the  rain  on  the  skin  roof  above  me, 
and  thought  of  the  woman  traveling  northward 
in  the  Iroquois  canoes.  Starling  was  with  her. 
I  lay  with  tight-clenched  hands. 

The  storm  swelled  high.  I  asked  that  the  mat 
be  dropped  from  before  the  door  that  I  might  see 


314  MONTLIVET 

the  lightning,  and  while  I  watched  it  Outchi- 
pouac  slipped  in.  He  felt  me  over,  and  patted 
my  moist  skin  approvingly.  Then  he.  sat  by  my 
side  and  began  to  talk. 

His  talk  at  first  was  a  chant,  a  saga,  a  recita 
tion  of  the  glories  of  his  ancestors.  The  Malho- 
minis  had  been  a  proud  race,  —  now  they  were 
dwindled  to  this  village  of  eighty  braves.  He 
crooned  long  tales  of  famine,  of  tribal  bicker 
ings,  of  ambuscade  and  defeat;  his  voice  rustled 
monotonously  like  wind  in  dried  grass. 

Then  his  tone  rose.  He  spoke  of  the  present, 
its  possibilities.  The  Iroquois  league  was  a 
scourge,  a  pestilence.  Could  it  be  abolished, 
the  western  nations  would  return  to  health. 
Security  would  reign,  and  tribal  laws  be  re 
spected..  The  French  would  be  friends,  part 
ners,  —  never  masters,  —  and  a  golden  age  would 
descend  upon  the  west.  It  was  the  gospel  that 
I  had  cried  in  the  wilderness,  but  phrased  in 
finer  imagery  than  mine.  I  felt  the  wooing  of 
his  argument,  even  as  I  had  wooed  others,  and 
I  listened  silently  and  watched  the  lightning's 
play. 

But  I  dreaded  the  moment  when  his  argument 
should  leave  theory  and  face  me  in  the  concrete. 
The  change  came  suddenly,  as  in  music  a  tender 
melody  will  merge  abruptly  into  a  summons  to 
arms.  He  called  me  to  witness.  The  Iroquois 


MIXED  MOTIVES  315 

were  at  the  gates.  They  outnumbered  the  Mal- 
hominis,  but  the  Sacs,  the  Chippewas,  and  the 
Winnebagoes  were  all  within  a  day's  journey, 
and  would  come  at  my  call.  The  time  for  the 
alliance  of  which  I  had  told  them  was  at  hand. 
My  body  was  crippled  but  my  brain  was  whole. 
To-morrow  he,  the  chief,  at  my  bidding,  and 
with  my  watchword,  would  send  runners  through 
the  tribes.  Within  the  week  a  giant  force  could 
be  gathered  and  an  attack  made.  The  Iroquois 
camp  would  be  exterminated,  and  then  I,  at  the 
head  of  the  force,  could  march  where  I  willed. 
Never  had  the  western  tribes  followed  a  white 
man,  but  I  had  called  their  hearts  from  their 
bodies,  and  they  would  go. 

But  one  thing  I  was  to  remember.  He,  Out- 
chipouac,  the  chief,  was  my  brother  in  arms. 
He  had  rescued  me,  clothed  me,  furnished  me 
the  means  of  war.  My  victories  were  his  victo 
ries.  These  were  his  conditions.  All  Iroquois 
slaves  that  might  be  captured  were  to  belong  to 
the  Malhominis  to  be  incorporated  in  their  tribe. 
The  other  tribes  could  divide  the  plunder,  but 
the  Malhominis  needed  new  blood  for  adoption. 
I  must  agree  to  that. 

He  stopped.  I  was  too  sick  of  mind  to  speak, 
and  my  distemper  was  not  of  my  wound.  I  had 
builded  for  this  moment  for  two  years,  and  now 
that  it  had  come  I  was  going  to  turn  my  back  on 


316  MONTLIVET 

it.  More,  I  was  going  to  refuse  aid  to  a  man  who 
had  succored  me,  had  shown  me  genuine  kind 
ness.  Self-pity  is  contemptible,  but  I  felt  it  now. 

"I  cannot  lead  you,"  I  said  dully.  "Gather 
your  troops  if  you  like,  and  make  the  attack 
without  me.  I  cannot  be  here.  To-morrow  I 
must  start  for  Michillimackinac.  You  will  give 
me  a  canoe  and  a  man  ?" 

The  lightning  filled  the  tent  and  lit  our  faces, 
and  I  saw  the  chief  start  back  under  the  blow  of 
my  words.  He  was  shocked  out  of  all  his  in 
herited  and  acquired  phlegm.  He  did  not  speak, 
but  he  rose  and  peered  into  my  eyes  and  I 
saw  bewilderment  go  and  contempt  rise  to  take 
its  place.  To  feel  the  righteous  disdain  of  an 
Indian!  That  is  an  unusual  experience  for  a 
white  man. 

And  still  he  did  not  reply.  He  sat  down  and 
pulled  his  blanket  over  him.  He  was  sorting 
out  the  evidence  against  me  and  giving  judg 
ment.  It  seemed  at  least  an  hour  that  he  sat 
silent.  And  when  he  did  speak  he  brought  no 
manna. 

'You  have  sold  yourself  to  the  Iroquois  wolf. 
You  are  a  child.  You  see  only  what  is  in  front 
of  your  nose  and  forget  what  may  come  later. 
You  are  a  fox.  You  hand  us  over  to  the  wolf, 
but  what  do  you  expect  ?  Has  a  wolf  gratitude  ? 
No,  but  he  has  hunger.  Fox  meat  is  poor  and 


MIXED  MOTIVES  317 

stringy,  but  the  wolf  has  a  large  stomach.  Let 
the  fox  beware." 

I  pulled  myself  to  my  feet,  though  my  shoulder 
cried  to  me  for  mercy.  I  jerked  the  chief's  blan 
ket  aside. 

"  Outchipouac,  I  have  listened.  You  have  used 
an  old  trick.  When  a  man  wishes  to  be  rid  of  a 
dog  he  cries  that  it  is  mad ;  then  he  can  kill  it, 
and  no  one  will  call  him  to  account.  So  you. 
If  you  wish  to  break  the  covenant  between  us, 
now  is  your  time.  You  can  call  me  a  fox,  you 
can  say  that  I  have  sold  my  honor  to  the  Iroquois 
wolf.  No  one  will  check  you,  for  I  am  naked 
and  ill,  and  you  are  powerful.  But  you  will  have 
lied.  This  is  my  answer.  I  have  called  you 
*  brother;'  I  have  kept  the  bond  unbroken.  If 
there  is  a  fox  here  it  is  the  man  who  calls  me 
one." 

I  waited,  and  my  mind  was  heavy.  If  the 
chief  called  me  "brother"  in  turn,  I  was  ready  to 
embrace  him  as  of  my  kin.  For  he  was  full  of 
vigor  of  mind  and  honesty,  and  I  respected  him. 
He  had  been  kind  to  me.  Would  he  trust  me 
against  the  evidence,  —  the  evidence  of  his  ears 
and  of  my  reluctant  tongue  ? 

He  temporized.  "The  Frenchman  has  a 
tongue  like  a  bobolink,  —  pleasant  to  hear. 
Whether  it  says  much,  —  that  is  a  different 
matter.  Can  the  Frenchman  tell  me  why  he 


318  MONTLIVET 

wishes  to  go  to  Michillimackinac  ?  Can  he  tell 
me  why  he  spends  time  from  the  moon  of  break 
ing  ice  to  the  moon  of  strawberries  building 
a  lodge  of  promises,  and  then  when  he  is  just 
ready  to  use  the  lodge  blows  it  down  with  a 
breath?" 

What  could  I  tell  him  ?  That  I  was  follow 
ing  a  woman  ?  That  I  had  given  her  my  name, 
and  that  I  must  protect  her  ?  It  would  sound  to 
him  like  a  parrot's  laughter.  This  was  no  court 
of  love.  It  was  war.  A  troubadour's  lute  would 
tinkle  emptily  in  these  woods  that  had  seen  mas 
sacre  and  knew  the  shriek  of  the  death  cry. 
Again  I  set  my  teeth  and  rose. 

"  Outchipouac,  war  is  secret.  I  cannot  tell 
you  why  I  go  to  Michillimackinac.  But  trust 
me.  I  go  on  business;  I  shall  return  at  once, 
within  ten  days,  unless  the  wind  be  foul.  Will 
you  furnish  me  a  canoe  and  a  man  to  paddle?" 
I  stooped  and  pulled  rushes  from  my  pallet, 
plaited  them,  and  bound  them  in  a  ring.  "Take 
this  ring;  keep  it.  It  is  firm,  like  my  purpose, 
and  unending,  like  my  endeavor.  I  shall  replace 
it  with  a  chain  of  bright  silver  when  I  come  to 
you  again.  I  give  it  to  you  in  pledge  of  my 
friendship." 

The  chief  took  the  ring  and  handled  it  loosely. 
I  thought  he  was  about  to  throw  it  away,  but  he 
did  not.  He  put  it  in  his  blanket. 


MIXED  MOTIVES  319 

"  It  is  well,"  he  said,  and  left  the  lodge.  I  was 
held  on  probation. 

I  had  a  good  night  and  woke  with  new  sinews. 
I  saw  that  the  sun  was  shining  and  the  sky  un 
troubled.  A  squaw  brought  me  broth,  and  I 
drank  it  hungrily  and  tried  to  see  no  evil  augury 
in  the  fact  that  I  was  served  by  a  woman.  I  flat 
tered  her,  and  asked  her  to  summon  Pierre. 

She  brought  him  at  once.  He  thrust  himself 
into  the  entrance,  and  I  saw  dismay  written  large 
upon  him. 

"There  is  a  canoe  waiting  to  take  the  master 
away,"  he  cried.  "I  am  going,  too." 

Now  I  was  prepared  for  this  battle.  "Pierre, 
you  are  to  stay  here.  You  are  to  keep  near 
the  Seneca  camp  to  help  Labarthe  and  Leclerc. 
If  they  escape,  go,  all  of  you,  to  our  camp  on 
Sturgeon  Cove  and  guard  the  stores  till  I  send 
you  word.  You  understand?" 

"But  the  master  is  sick.     I  go  with  him." 

:'You  stay  here." 

"I  go  with  the  master." 

"I  will  not  allow  it." 

"Then  I  follow  behind." 

:<You  have  no  canoe,  no  provision." 

"I  have  legs.  I  can  walk.  I  can  eat  tripe  de 
roche." 

The  giant  was  trembling.  I  could  not  but  re 
spect  this  rebellion.  He  had  broken  the  chains 


320  MONTLIVET 

of  three  centuries  in  his  defiance.  The  thought 
of  his  filling  his  cavernous  stomach  with  tripe  de 
roche  —  which  is  a  rock  lichen,  slimy  and  taste 
less  —  moved  me  somewhat. 

"You  dare  disobey  me,  Pierre?'* 

"But  the  master  is  sick." 

I  shrugged,  but  the  logic  held.  "Then  tell 
the  chief,"  I  capitulated.  "And  see  that  I  have 
something  to  wear." 

Water  was  brought  by  one  squaw^  and  another 
fetched  more  broth  and  bound  my  shoulder  with 
fresh  dressings.  Then  leggings,  robe,  and  girdle 
of  wolfskin  were  left  for  me.  I  put  them  on  with 
difficulty,  and  went  to  find  Outchipouac. 

I  stepped  out  into  a  glare  of  sunshine  and  stood 
blinking.  The  braves  were  gathered  in  a  group, 
and  a  line  of  squaws  barred  me  from  them.  I 
started  toward  them,  but  the  squaws  waved  me 
back ;  they  pointed  me  to  the  shore  and  the  waiting 
canoe.  Pierre  rolled  forward,  uneasy  and  scowling. 

"The  braves  will  not  speak  to  us;  they  say  our 
talk  means  nothing." 

"Who  said  that?" 

"Outchipouac.  He  showed  me  a  grass  ring 
hanging  on  a  pole  by  his  lodge.  He  says  that 
when  you  come  again  and  hang  a  silver  one  in 
its  place  it  will  be  time  for  him  to  listen." 

I  knew  the  Indians  were  watching,  though 
covertly,  so  I  could  only  bow.  I  went  to  the 


MIXED  MOTIVES  321 

canoe  and  looked  to  its  provisioning.  There  were 
two  bags  of  rice,  one  of  jerked  meat,  some  ears  of 
maize,  and  the  dried  rind  of  a  squash ;  a  knife 
and  a  hatchet  lay  with  them.  Our  hosts  had 
been  generous.  We  were  to  be  aided  even  if 
we  were  to  be  disciplined.  I  found  my  place, 
and  Pierre  took  the  paddle  and  pushed  away. 

It  is  one  thing  to  be  at  enmity  with  savages, 
it  is  another  to  be  an  outcast  among  them.  I 
knew  that  their  attitude  had  excuse,  and  I  was 
sick  with  myself.  Then  my  Indian  dress  chafed 
my  pride.  I  was  sure  that  Pierre  was  laughing 
under  his  wrinkled  red  skin,  and  I  was  childish 
enough  to  be  ready  to  rate  him  if  he  showed 
so  much  as  a  pucker  of  an  eye.  For  I  had  al 
ways  refused  to  let  my  men  adopt  the  slightest 
particular  of  the  savage  dress.  I  had  held  — 
and  I  contend  rightly  —  that  a  man  must  resist 
the  wilderness  most  when  he  loves  it  most,  and 
that  he  is  in  danger  when  he  forgets  the  least 
point  of  his  dress  or  manner.  After  that  the 
downward  plunge  is  swift.  I  had  said  this  many 
times,  and  I  knew  Pierre  must  be  recalling  it. 

And  so  I  was  sore  with  fate.  Wounded,  skin- 
clad,  I  was  not  heroic  in  look;  it  was  hard  to  be 
heroic  in  mind.  I  had  jeopardized  the  chance 
of  an  empire  for  a  woman.  But  that  proved  no 
thing.  The  weakest  could  do  that.  It  must  be 
shown  that  I  could  justify  my  sacrifice. 


322  MONTLIVET 

These  were  irritations,  yet  they  were  but  the 
surface  of  my  suffering.  Underneath  was  the 
grinding,  never-ceasing  ache  of  anxiety.  What 
was  happening  at  Michillimackinac  ?  Would 
I  reach  there  in  time  ?  I  could  do  nothing  but 
sit  and  think.  Always,  from  dawn  to  dusk,  my 
impatient  spirit  fretted  and  pushed  at  that  canoe, 
but  my  hands  were  idle.  I  tried  paddling  with 
my  left  hand,  but  it  dislocated  my  bandages,  and 
I  did  not  dare.  I  was  in  some  pain,  but  ex 
posed  as  I  was,  broiled  by  the  sun  and  drenched 
by  showers,  I  yet  mended  daily.  I  ate  well 
and  drank  deep  of  the  cold  lake  water  and  felt 
my  strength  come.  My  cut  was  healing  whole 
somely  without  fever,  and  Pierre  washed  and  ban 
daged  it  twice  a  day.  He  told  me  with  many  a 
twist  of  his  hanging  lip  that  it  was  well  for  me 
that  he  was  there. 

But  on  the  point  of  his  being  there  I  had  new 
light.  It  came  one  day  after  long  silence.  The 
giant  rested  and  wiped  his  forehead. 

"There  are  plovers  on  the  waters,"  he  pointed. 
'They  make  good  eating.  Singing  Arrow  can 
cook  them  with  bear's  grease.  I  am  going  to 
marry  the  Indian  when  we  get  to  Michillimacki 
nac.  Then  when  we  reach  Montreal  you  will 
give  her  a  dowry.  There  is  the  grain  field  on  the 
lower  river  that  was  planted  by  Martin.  Martin 
has  no  wife.  What  does  he  need  of  grain  ?  The 


MIXED  MOTIVES  323 

king  wishes  his  subjects  to  marry.  And  if  the 
master  gave  us  a  house  we  could  live,  oh,  very 
well.  I  thought  of  it  when  I  went  through  the 
Malhominis  land  and  saw  all  those  squashes. 
The  Indian  sews  her  own  dresses,  and  I  shall 
tell  her  I  do  not  like  her  in  finery.  We  will  send 
a  capon  to  the  master  every  Christmas." 

I  grinned  despite  myself.  I  had  grown  fatu 
ous,  for  I  had  taken  it  without  question  that  the 
oaf  had  followed  from  his  loyalty  to  me.  But  I 
nodded  at  him  and  promised  recklessly  —  house, 
pigs,  and  granary.  The  same  star  ruled  master 
and  man. 

But  the  way  was  long,  long,  long.  Nights 
came  and  days  came,  and  still  more  nights  and 
days.  Yet  it  ended  at  last.  Late  one  afternoon 
we  saw  the  shore  line  that  marked  Michillimacki- 
nac.  Once  in  sight  it  came  fast,  fast,  fast,  — 
faster  than  I  could  prepare  my  courage  for  what 
might  meet  me.  What  should  I  find  ? 

We  reached  the  beach  where  I  had  tied  Father 
Carheil.  We  rounded  the  point.  The  garrison, 
the  board  roofs  of  the  Jesuit  houses,  the  Indian 
camps,  —  all  were  as  usual.  They  were  peace 
ful,  untouched.  I  swallowed,  for  my  throat  and 
tongue  wrere  dry. 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

I   MEET   VARIOUS   WELCOMES 

IT  was  Father  Carheil  who  first  sighted  us.  He 
sounded  the  cry  of  our  arrival,  and  came  skur- 
rying  like  a  sandpiper,  his  scant  gown  tripping 
him,  his  cap  askew. 

I  leaped  from  the  canoe  and  hurried  to  him. 
The  man  must  hate  me,  but  he  could  not  refuse 
me  news.  I  stretched  out  my  hand. 

"  Is  all  well  here,  father  ?     Is  all  well  ?  " 

He  disdained  my  hand,  and  held  his  arms 
wide.  "All  is  well  with  us.  But  you —  We 
feared  the  Iroquois  wolf  had  devoured  you." 

And  I  had  thought  the  man  capable  of  petty 
spite.  I  dropped  on  my  knees  to  him.  "Father 
Carheil,  I  grieve  for  what  I  did,  yet  I  could  not 
have  done  otherwise." 

He  drew  back  a  little  and  rumpled  his  thin 
hair  with  a  bloodless  hand.  His  face  was  frown 
ing,  but  his  restless,  brilliant  eyes  were  full  of 
amusement. 

"So  your  conscience  is  not  at  ease ?  My  son, 
you  are  as  strong  as  a  Flemish  work  horse.  I 
limped  to  mass  for  the  next  fortnight,  and  my 
gown  was  in  fiddle-strings,  —  you  may  send  me 


VARIOUS  WELCOMES  325 

another.  As  for  the  rest,  we  need  new  altar  hang 
ings.  Now,  come,  come,  come.  Tell  us  what 
has  happened." 

And  there  it  ended.  One  makes  enemies  in 
strange  ways  in  this  world  and  friends  in  stran 
ger.  I  should  not  have  said  that  the  way  to  win 
a  man's  heart  was  to  bind  him  like  a  Christmas 
fowl  and  then  leave  him  with  his  back  on  the 
sand. 

The  priest's  cry  had  waked  the  garrison,  and 
the  officers  came  running.  Cadillac,  stout  as  he 
was,  was  in  the  lead.  I  knew,  from  the  press  of 
his  arms  about  me,  that  he  had  thought  me  dead. 

"  Is  Madame  de  Montlivet  safe  ?  Are  the  Sen- 
ecashere?"  I  clamored  at  him. 

A  babel  of  affirmatives  arose.  Yes,  madame 
was  there.  The  Senecas  were  there.  So  the 
English  prisoner  had  proved  to  be  a  woman. 
Had  I  known  it  at  the  time  ?  I  was  a  sly  dog. 
All  tongues  talked  at  once,  while  I  fought  for  a 
hearing.  We  turned  toward  the  commandant's. 
The  door  of  the  nearest  cabin  opened  and  Star 
ling  came  out.  He  did  not  look  toward  us,  and 
he  walked  the  other  way.  The  woman  walked 
beside  him. 

A  hush  clapped  down  on  us  as  if  our  very 
breathing  were  strangled.  A  lane  opened  in 
front  of  me.  I  took  one  step  in  it,  then  stopped. 
There  was  the  woman.  I  had  followed  her 


326  MONTLIVET 

through  wounds  and  hardship.  Through  the 
long  nights  I  had  watched  the  stars  and  planned 
for  our  meeting.  But  when  I  would  have  gone 
to  her  my  feet  were  manacled,  for  this  was  not 
the  woman  of  my  dreams.  This  woman  wore 
trailing  silk,  and  her  hair  was  coifed.  And  she 
was  walking  away  from  me;  no  instinct  told  her 
that  I  was  near.  She  was  walking  away,  and 
Starling  walked  beside  her.  I  did  not  remember 
that  I  was  wounded  and  a  sorry  figure ;  I  did  not 
remember  that  I  was  dressed  in  skins.  I  remem 
bered  that  I  had  married  this  woman  by  force, 
and  that  she  had  once  wished  of  her  own  accord 
to  marry  Starling.  And  now  she  walked  with 
him;  she  wore  a  gown  he  must  have  brought; 
she  had  forgiven  him.  A  hot  spark  ran  from  my 
heart  to  my  brain.  I  turned  and  started  toward 
the  beach. 

I  heard  a  breath  from  the  throats  around  me 
and  a  stretching  of  cramped  limbs.  Cadillac's 
arm  dropped  round  my  shoulders,  and  I  felt  the 
pressure  of  his  fingers. 

"  Come  to  my  quarters,"  he  said.  ;' You  have 
mail  waiting.  And  we  will  find  you  something  to 
wear.  Dubisson  is  near  your  size." 

And  so  I  let  him  lead  me  away.  I  pressed 
him  for  news  of  the  Indian  situation,  but  he  only 
shrugged  and  said,  "Wait.  Matters  are  quies 
cent  enough  on  the  surface.  We  will  talk  later." 


VARIOUS  WELCOMES  327 

It  was  strange.  I  bathed  and  dressed  quite  as 
I  had  done  many  times  before,  when  I  had  come 
in  from  months  in  camp ;  quite  as  if  there  were  no 
woman,  and  as  if  massacre  were  not  knocking  at 
the  window.  But  I  carried  a  black  weight  that 
made  my  tongue  leaden,  and  I  excused  myself 
from  table  on  the  plea  of  going  through  my  mail. 
The  news  the  letters  brought  was  good  but 
unimportant.  In  the  Montreal  packet  was  a 
sealed  line  in  a  woman's  hand. 

"I  have  tracked  my  miniature,"  it  read.  "I 
mourned  its  disappearance;  I  should  welcome  its 
return.  Can  you  find  excuses  for  the  man  who 
took  it  from  me  ?  If  you  can,  I  beg  that  you  let 
me  hear  them.  He  was  once  my  friend,  and  I 
am  loath  to  think  of  him  hardly."  The  note  bore 
no  signature.  It  was  dated  at  the  governor's 
house  at  Montreal,  and  directed  to  me  at  Mich- 
illimackinac. 

I  was  alone  with  Dubisson  and  I  turned  to  him. 
"Madame  Bertheau  is  at  Montreal?" 
He  shrugged.     "So  I  hear." 
"  She  has  come  to  see  her  brother?  " 
Now  he  grinned.     "Ostensibly,  monsieur." 
There  was  no  need  to  hide  my  feeling  from 
Dubisson,  so  I  sat  with  my  chin  sunk  low  and 
thought  it  over.    I  was  ill  pleased.    I  had  been  long 
and  openly  in  Madame  Bertheau's  train,  and  this 
was  a  land  of  gossips.     I  turned  to  the  lieutenant. 


328  MONTLIVET 

"  Madame  de  Montlivet,  where  is  she  housed  ? " 

He  looked  relieved.  "She  has  a  room  next 
door.  Starling  we  have  taken  in  with  us.  I 
would  rather  have  a  tethered  elk.  He  is  so  big 
he  fills  the  whole  place." 

Now,  square  issues  please  me.  "Dubisson, 
why  has  no  one  offered  to  take  me  to  my  wife  ?" 

The  man  laughed  rather  helplessly.  'T  is 
from  no  lack  of  respect  for  either  of  you,  mon 
sieur.  But  you  said  nothing,  and  Starling  "  — 

"Yes,  it  is  from  Starling  that  I  wish  to  hear." 

"  Well,  Starling  has  said  —  Monsieur,  why 
repeat  the  man's  gossip?" 

"Go  on,  Dubisson." 

"After  all,  it  is  only  what  the  Englishman  has 
said.  Madame,  so  far  as  I  know,  has  said  no 
thing.  But  Starling  has  told  us  that  yours  was 
a  marriage  of  form  only,  —  that  the  woman  con 
sented  under  stress,  and  now  "  — 

"And  now  regretted  it  ?" 

"I  am  only  quoting  Starling.  Monsieur, 
would  you  like  to  see  your  wife  ?" 

I  rose.  :'Yes.  Will  you  send  word  and  see 
if  I  may?" 

Dubisson  bowed  and  left  me  with  a  speed  that 
gave  me  a  wry  smile.  The  laughter-loving  lieu 
tenant  hated  embarrassment  as  he  did  fast-days, 
and  I  had  given  him  a  bad  hour. 

He  was  back  before  I  thought  it  possible. 


VARIOUS  WELCOMES  329 

"She  will  see  you  at  once  in  the  comman 
dant's  waiting-room."  He  looked  at  me  oddly. 
''Your  wife  is  a  queenly  woman,  monsieur." 

The  lights  shone  uncertainly  in  the  comman 
dant's  waiting-room.  It  was  the  room  where  I 
had  met  the  English  captive.  From  a  defiant 
boy  to  a  court  lady!  It  was  a  long  road,  and 
I  was  conscious  of  all  the  steps  that  had  gone 
to  make  it.  I  went  to  the  woman  in  silk  who 
waited  by  the  door.  She  stood  erect  and  silent, 
but  her  eyes  shone  softly  through  a  haze,  and 
when  I  bent  to  kiss  her  hand  I  found  that  she 
was  quivering  from  feet  to  hair. 

"  Monsieur ! "  she  whispered  unsteadily, "  mon 
sieur!"  Then  I  felt  her  light  touch.  "God  is 
good.  I  have  prayed  for  your  safety  night  and 
day.  Ah  —  but  your  shoulder !  They  did  not 
tell  me.  Are  you  wounded,  monsieur  ?  " 

I  was  cold  as  a  clod.  She  had  forgiven  Star 
ling.  She  had  walked  with  him.  I  answered 
the  usual  thing  mechanically.  "  My  shoulder,  — 
it  is  a  scratch,  madame."  I  kept  my  lips  on  her 
hand,  and  with  the  feeling  her  touch  brought  me 
I  could  not  contain  my  bitterness.  "Madame, 
you  wear  rich  raiment.  Does  that  mean  that 
you  and  Lord  Starling  are  again  friends?" 

She  drew  away.  "  Monsieur,  should  we  not  be 
friends?" 

"  Have  you  forgiven  Lord  Starling,  madame  ?" 


330  MONTLIVET 

She  looked  at  me  with  wistful  quiet.  In  her 
strange  gown  she  seemed  saddened,  matured. 
And  she  answered  me  gravely.  "Monsieur, 
please  understand.  My  cousin  and  I  —  Why, 
we  traveled  side  by  side  in  the  Iroquois  canoes. 
He  served  me,  was  careful  of  me ;  he  —  he  has 
suffered  for  me,  monsieur.  I  was  hard  to  him 
for  a  long  time,  —  a  longer  time  than  I  like  to 
remember.  But  I  could  not  but  listen  to  his 
explanation.  And,  whatever  he  did,  he  is,  after 
all,  my  cousin,  and  he  regrets  deeply  all  that 
happened.  As  to  this  gown,  —  it  is  one  I  wore 
in  Boston.  My  cousin  brought  it  in  his  canoe 
and  left  it  here  at  the  garrison  when  he  went 
west.  Monsieur ' '  — 

:'Yes,  madame." 

"Monsieur,  I  was  wrong  when  I  suspected 
my  cousin.  I  have  an  unkind  nature  in  many 
ways.  He  came  here  to  find  me,  —  for  that 
alone.  He  honors  you  greatly  for  all  you  have 
done  for  me.  I  hope  that  you  will  give  him 
opportunity  to  thank  you  as  he  wishes." 

I  thought  of  Starling's  great  voice,  his  air  of 
power.  "  I  hope  to  meet  your  cousin,"  I  replied. 

It  was  a  churlish  return,  and  she  had  been 
gentle.  The  chill  that  fell  between  us  was  of 
my  making.  I  knew  that  with  every  second  of 
silence  I  was  putting  myself  more  deeply  in  the 
wrong.  But  I  had  to  ask  one  thing  more. 


VARIOUS  WELCOMES  331 

"  Madame,  they  tell  me  here  that  you  say  that 
you  regret  our  marriage,  —  that  I  forced  you  to 
bear  my  name.  Have  you  said  that  ?  " 

I  could  not  be  blind  to  the  hurt  in  her  face. 
"Monsieur,  how  can  you  ask?" 

And  then  I  was  shamed.  I  knelt  again  to 
her  hand.  "Only  to  prove  in  open  words  that 
Lord  Starling  lied.  Did  you  think  I  doubted  ? 
No,  madame,  no  woman  of  our  house  has  ever 
had  finer  pride  or  a  truer  instinct.  Believe  me, 
I  see  that.  But  so  the  story  flies.  Madame,  all 
eyes  are  on  us.  We  must  define  the  situation 
in  some  manner  as  regards  the  world.  May  I 
talk  to  you  of  this  ?" 

The  hand  under  my  lips  grew  warm.  "  Mon 
sieur,  we  are  to  wait.  When  we  reach  Mon 
treal" 

"But,  madame!  These  intervening  months! 
It  will  be  late  autumn  before  we  return  to  Mon 
treal." 

She  drew  in  her  breath.  "Late  autumn! 
Monsieur,  what  are  your  plans?  You  forget 
that  I  know  nothing.  And  tell  me  of  your 
escape." 

I  rose  and  looked  down  at  her.  "We  have 
both  escaped,"  I  said,  and  because  emotion  was 
smiting  me  my  voice  was  hard.  "Let  us  not 
talk  of  it.  I  see  that  you  are  here,  and  I  thank 
God.  But  I  cannot  yet  bring  myself  to  ask 


332  MONTLIVET 

what  you  have  been  through.  I  cannot  face  the 
horror  of  it  for  you.  I  beg  you  to  understand.'* 

But  it  was  I  who  did  not  understand  when  she 
drew  away.  "As  you  will,"  she  agreed,  and 
there  was  pride  in  her  great  eyes,  but  there 
was  a  wound  as  well.  ''Yet  why,"  she  went  on, 
"should  a  knowledge  of  human  tragedy  harden 
a  woman  ?  It  strengthens  a  man.  But  enough. 
Monsieur,  have  you  heard  —  the  lady  of  the 
miniature  is  at  Montreal  ?  " 

I  was  slow,  for  I  was  wondering  how  I  had 
vexed  her.  'You  never  saw  the  miniature,"  I 
parried.  "  How  can  you  connect  a  name  with  it, 
madame?" 

She  looked  at  me  calmly.  I  hated  her  silk 
gown  that  shone  like  a  breastplate  between  us. 
She  brushed  away  my  evasion. 

"It  is  well  known  that  you  carried  Madame 
Bertheau's  miniature.  You  were  an  ardent 
suitor,  monsieur." 

Yes,  I  had  been  an  ardent  suitor.  I  remem 
bered  it  with  amaze.  My  tongue  had  not  been 
clogged  and  middle-aged,  in  those  blithe  days, 
and  yet  those  days  were  only  two  years  gone. 
With  this  woman  even  Pierre  had  better  speech 
at  his  command. 

"Madame,  who  told  you  this?" 

"Monsieur,  the  tale  is  common  property  in 
Paris." 


VARIOUS  WELCOMES  333 

"May  I  ask  who  told  you,  madame?" 
"My  cousin,  monsieur." 
"I  thought  so." 

She  looked  at  me  fairly,  almost  sadly,  as  if  she 
begged  to  read  my  mind.  "  Monsieur,  why  should 
you  regret  my  knowing  ?  It  is  to  your  credit  that 
you  admire  Madame  Bertheau.  They  tell  me 
that  she  is  a  woman  formed  for  love,  beautiful, 
childlike,  untouched  by  knowledge  of  crime  or 
hardship.  Monsieur,  forgive  me.  Are  you  will 
ing —  May  I  see  the  miniature?" 

The  transition  in  my  thought  was  so  abrupt 
that  I  clapped  my  hand  to  my  pocket  as  if  it  were 
still  there. 

"It  —     I  am  not  carrying  the  miniature." 
"Did  —  did  the  Indians  take  it  from  you ?" 
I  stepped  nearer.     "Madame  de  Montlivet, 
what  right  have  I  to  be  carrying  another  woman's 
miniature  ?     I  shall  write  the  fact  of  my  marriage 
to  Madame  Bertheau,  and  the   matter  will  be 
closed.     No,  the  Indians  did  not  take  the  min 
iature.     I  buried  it  in  the  woods." 

"Monsieur,  that  was  not  necessary!" 
"I  thought  that  it  was,  madame." 
She  stood  with  a  chair  between  us.     "Mon 
sieur,"  she  said,  with  her  eyes  down,  "I  wish 
that  I  had  known.     It  was  not  necessary.     Did 
you    bury   the    miniature    when    you    married 
me?" 


334  MONTLIVET 

I  put  the  chair  aside  and  stood  over  her.  "  No, 
madame,  I  did  not  bury  the  miniature  the  day 
we  were  married.  Do  you  remember  the  night 
of  the  storm,  the  night  when  you  asked  me  if  I 
could  save  you  from  your  cousin  ?  I  rose  early 
the  next  morning  and  digged  a  grave  for  the  pic 
ture.  It  is  buried  deep,  —  with  all  that  I  once 
thought  that  it  implied.  If  I  confess  now  that  it 
implied  little  you  must  find  excuses  for  me.  I  — 
my  heart  was  in  the  camp  in  those  days.  The 
rest  was  pastime.  I  have  left  pastimes  behind, 
madame." 

She  would  not  look  at  me,  yet  I  felt  her  change. 
The  flitting,  indescribable  air  of  elation  that 
marked  her  from  all  women  in  the  world  came 
back.  She  was  again  the  woman  of  the  forest, 
the  woman  who  had  waked  with  a  song  and 
looked  with  unhurried  pulse  into  the  face  of 
danger.  I  breathed  hard  and  bent  to  her,  but 
she  kept  her  eyes  away. 

"The  fair  little  French  face,"  she  murmured. 
'You  should  not  have  put  it  in  the  cold  earth. 
You  were  needlessly  cruel,  monsieur." 

I  bent  lower.  "  I  was  not  cruel.  I  gave  her  a 
giant  sepulchre.  That  is  over.  But  I  —  I  shall 
have  another  miniature.  I  know  a  skilled  man 
in  Paris.  Some  time  — some  time  I  mean  to  have 
your  portrait  in  your  Indian  blouse;  in  your  skin 
blouse  with  the  sun  in  your  hair."  My  free  hand 


VARIOUS  WELCOMES  335 

suddenly  crept  to  her  shoulder.  "May  I  have 
it?  May  I  have  it,  madame?" 

I  cannot  remember.  Often  as  I  have  tried,  I 
can  never  quite  remember.  I  am  not  sure  that 
I  heard  her  whisper.  But  I  think  that  I  did. 
She  quivered  under  my  touch,  but  she  did  not 
draw  away,  and  so  we  stood  for  a  moment,  while 
my  hand  wandered  where  it  had  gone  in  dreams 
and  rested  on  her  hair.  "Mary!"  I  whispered, 
and  once  more  we  let  the  silence  lie  like  a  pledge 
between  us. 

But  in  the  moment  of  silence  I  heard  again 
what  I  had  forgotten,  —  the  roar  of  the  camp 
outside.  It  seemed  louder  than  it  had  been,  and 
it  claimed  my  thought.  I  checked  my  breath  to 
listen,  holding  the  woman's  hand  in  mine.  And 
while  we  listened,  Cadillac's  loud  step  and  cheer 
ful  voice  came  down  the  passage.  The  woman 
drew  her  hand  away,  and  I  let  her  go.  I  let  her 
go  as  if  I  were  ashamed.  I  have  cursed  myself 
for  that  ever  since. 

Cadillac  stopped.  "Are  you  there,  Montli- 
vet  ?  "  he  called.  "  When  you  are  at  leisure,  come 
to  my  room."  I  heard  his  step  retreat. 

And  then  I  turned  to  the  woman.  But  with 
Cadillac's  voice  a  change  had  come.  My  mind 
was  again  heavy  with  anxiety.  I  remembered 
the  thronging  Indians  without,  the  pressing  re 
sponsibilities  within.  I  remembered  the  volcano 


336  MONTLIVET 

under  us.  For  the  moment  I  could  not  think 
of  my  personal  claims  on  the  woman.  I  could 
think  only  of  my  anxiety  for  her.  Yet  I  went  to 
her  and  took  her  hand. 

"  Mary,  —  I  am  weary  of  madame  and  mon 
sieur  between  us,  —  you  are  my  wife.  May  I  talk 
of  our  future?" 

I  spoke  in  the  very  words  I  had  used  the  night 
I  asked  her  to  marry  me,  —  to  marry  me  for  my 
convenience.  I  remembered  it  as  I  heard  my 
tongue  form  the  phrase,  and  it  recalled  my  argu 
ment  of  that  time, —  that  she  must  marry  me 
because  my  plans  were  more  to  me  than  her 
wishes. 

She  withdrew  from  me.  "Monsieur  Cadillac 
is  waiting  for  you.  You  wield  great  power." 

Something  new  had  come  to  her  tone.  I  would 
have  none  of  it.  "Mary,  may  I  talk  to  you?" 

But  still  she  drew  away.  "Monsieur,  I  am 
confused,  and  you  are  needed  elsewhere.  Not 
to-night,  I  beg  you,  not  to-night." 

I  could  not  protest.  In  truth,  I  knew  that 
Cadillac  needed  me.  I  went  with  her  to  the 
door. 

"  To-morrow,  then  ?"  I  begged.  "Will  you 
listen  to-morrow,  madame?" 

But  she  had  grown  very  white.  ;<  You  are  im 
portant  here.  There  is  work  for  you.  Be  care 
ful  of  your  safety.  Please  be  careful." 


VARIOUS  WELCOMES  337 

I  took  her  hand.  "Thank  you,  madame." 
There  was  much  in  my  tone  that  I  kept  out  of 
my  words,  but  she  was  not  conscious  of  it.  She 
was  not  thinking  of  herself,  and  her  eyes,  that 
were  on  mine,  were  full  of  trouble.  All  the  re 
straint  that  the  last  weeks  had  taught  her  had 
come  back  to  her  look. 

'You  wield  great  power,"  she  repeated.  "You 
are  to  be  the  leader  of  the  west.  I  see  that.  But 
oh,  be  careful!  Good-night,  monsieur." 


CHAPTER    XXV 

OVER  CADILLAC'S  TABLE 

I  FOUND  Cadillac  writing,  writing.  Letters  were 
his  safety  valve.  I  had  only  to  look  at  his  table 
to  see  how  much  he  was  perturbed. 

And  when  I  sat  across  from  him,  with  the  can 
dles  between,  I  saw  that  he  was  also  perplexed. 
That  was  unusual,  for  commonly  he  was  off-hand 
in  his  judgments,  and  leaped  to  conclusions  like 
a  pouncing  cat.  He  looked  at  me  through  the 
candle-gloom  and  shook  his  head. 

"  Month  vet,  you  have  lost  twenty  pounds  since 
I  saw  you,  and  aged.  Out  on  you,  man!  It  is 
not  worth  it.  We  live  ten  years  in  one  in  this 
wilderness.  We  throw  away  our  youth.  Then 
we  go  back  to  France  and  find  ourselves  old  men, 
worn  out,  uncouth,  out  at  elbows,  at  odds  with 
our  generation.  It  is  not  worth  it.  It  is  not 
worth  it,  I  say." 

I  was  impatient.  '*  What  has  happened  since 
the  Senecas  came?" 

He  made  a  tired  grimace.  "Principally  that 
I  have  not  slept,"  he  yawned. 

'You  have  seen  no  signs  of  an  uprising?" 

He  put  his  head  between  his  hands,  and  I  saw 


that  he  was  indeed  weary.  "There  are  never 
signs  till  the  uprising  is  on  us.  You  know  that. 
I  have  done  what  I  could.  The  guards  are  tre 
bled,  and  we  sleep  on  our  swords.  Montlivet,  tell 
me.  What  have  you  been  doing  in  the  west?" 

I  had  expected  him  to  finesse  to  this  question. 
I  liked  it  that  he  gave  it  to  me  with  a  naked  blade. 

"I  have  been  forming  an  Indian  league,"  I 
answered  bluntly. 

He  nodded.  "I  know.  There  have  been  ru 
mors.  Then  I  knew  what  you  did  with  the  St. 
Lawrence  tribes  last  year.  Why  did  you  not  tell 
me  when  you  went  through  here  last  spring?" 

I  shook  my  head.  "  I  wished  to  prove  myself. 
It  was  an  experiment.  Then  I  desired  a  free 
hand." 

;<You  did  not  wish  my  help?" 

"I  wished  to  test  the  ground  without  entan 
gling  you.  If  I  failed,  —  why,  I  was  nothing  but  a 
fur  trader.  There  had  been  no  talk,  no  explana 
tions,  nothing.  A  trader  went  west ;  he  returned. 
That  would  end  it." 

"But  if  you  succeeded?" 

I  bowed  to  him.  "  If  I  succeeded  I  intended 
to  come  to  you  for  help  and  consultation,  mon 
sieur." 

I  saw  his  eyes  gleam.  The  man  loved  war, 
and  his  imagination  was  fertile  as  a  jungle.  I 
knew  that  already  he  had  taken  my  small  vision, 


340  MONTLIVET 

magnified  it  a  thousand-fold,  and  peopled  it  with 
fantasies.  That  was  the  man's  mind.  Fortu 
nately  he  had  humor,  and  that  saved  him,  — that 
and  letter-writing.  He  tapped  out  his  emotion 
through  noisy  finger-tips. 

"How  much  are  you  ready  to  tell  me  now?" 
he  asked. 

"Everything,  —  if  you  have  patience."  I 
rested  my  well  arm  on  the  table,  and  went  care 
fully  —  almost  day  by  day  —  over  the  time  that 
separated  me  from  May.  I  gave  detail  but  not 
embroidery.  Facts  even  if  they  be  numerous 
can  be  disposed  of  shortly,  if  fancy  and  philoso 
phy  be  put  aside.  So  my  recital  did  not  take  me 
long. 

The  gleam  was  still  in  Cadillac's  eyes.  "And 
you  think  the  western  tribes  would  follow  you 
now?" 

"They  would  have  followed  me  a  week  ago." 

He  heard  something  sinister  in  my  reply. 
:'You  could  have  wiped  out  that  Seneca  camp," 
he  meditated. 

"Yes,  it  could  have  been  done." 

He  gave  me  a  look.  "The  Malhominis 
wished  it?" 

"Yes." 

"And  you  thought  it  unwise  ?" 

"  They  could  not  have  done  it  without  a  leader. 
And  I  could  not  lead  them.  I  had  to  come  here." 


OVER  CADILLAC'S  TABLE        341 

He  smote  the  table  till  the  candles  flared. 
"You  were  wrong.  You  were  wrong.  You 
could  have  gathered  your  forces  and  had  the  at 
tack  over  in  a  week,  —  in  less  time.  Then  you 
could  have  brought  your  troops  with  you,  and 
come  to  my  aid.  You  were  wrong." 

I  moved  the  candles  out  of  danger.  "I  had 
to  follow  madame,"  I  said  mechanically.  "She 
might  have  needed  me." 

Cadillac's  teeth  clicked.  "Madame" —  he 
began,  but  he  swallowed  the  sentence,  and  rose 
and  walked  the  floor.  "Do  you  realize  what 
you  have  done  ?  Do  you  realize  what  you  have 
done?"  he  boiled  out  at  me.  "This  desertion 
may  have  cost  you  your  hold  with  the  western 
tribes." 

"I  realize  that." 

And  then  he  cursed  till  the  candles  flared  again. 
"It  was  the  chance  of  a  lifetime,"  he  concluded. 

Why  does  the  audience  always  feel  that  they 
understand  the  situation  better  than  the  actor? 
I  was  willing  enough  to  let  Cadillac  rage,  but  re 
sentful  of  the  time  he  was  using. 

'What  happened  when  the  Senecas  came?" 
I  demanded. 

He  looked  at  me  with  puffing  lips.  "You 
know  nothing?" 

"Nothing." 

"But  Madame  de  Montlivet"  — 


342  MONTLIVET 

"I  asked  her  no  questions." 

He  whistled  under  his  breath.  "Well  —  no 
thing  happened.  The  flotilla  reached  here  at 
sundown  three  days  ago.  The  Baron  and  his 
followers  met  them  at  the  beach  and  rushed  the 
Senecas  into  the  Huron  camp.  They  are  there 
now." 

"But  madame  and  Starling?" 

"I  demanded  them  of  Pemaou,  and  he  made 
no  objection." 

"He  made  no  conditions?" 

"No." 

I  frowned  at  that  and  thought  it  over. 

"What  do  you  make  of  it?"  Cadillac  ques 
tioned. 

But  I  could  only  say  I  did  not  know.  "  Pemaou 
is  skillful  about  using  us  as  his  jailers,"  I  went 
on.  "That  may  be  his  object  now.  He  evi 
dently  finds  some  opposition  in  the  Huron  camp, 
or  you  would  have  had  massacre  before  this." 

'You  think  the  Senecas  are  here  for  con 
quest?" 

"  From  all  I  could  overhear,  they  are  here  to 
look  over  the  situation  and  exchange  peace  belts 
with  the  Hurons.  If  they  can  command  a  suffi 
cient  force,  they  will  fall  on  us  now;  if  not,  they 
will  rejoin  the  main  camp  and  come  to  us  later." 

Cadillac  fingered  his  sword.  "  It  is  rather  des 
perate,"  he  said  quietly,  and  he  smiled.  "But 


OVER  CADILLAC'S  TABLE        343 

we  are  not  conquered  yet.  We  shall  have  some 
scalps  first." 

I  shook  my  head.  'Your  sword  is  ever  too 
uneasy.  We  may  hold  off  an  outbreak.  They 
have  been  here  three  days,  and  they  have  not 
dared  act.  You  wish  to  call  a  council?" 

"If  you  will  interpret." 

"  Give  me  a  day  first  to  see  what  I  can  learn. 
I  shall  be  out  at  daybreak.  What  does  Starling 
say?" 

"He  talks  of  nothing  but  safe  conduct  home. 
He  sticks  to  his  tale  well.  He  is  a  simple- 
hearted,  suffering  man  who  has  found  his  cousin 
and  whose  mission  is  over.  He  is  grateful  for 
our  hospitality,  he  is  grateful  to  you,  he  is  grate 
ful  to  everybody.  How  much  shall  we  believe  ?" 

"Not  more  than  is  necessary." 

"  Montlivet,  be  frank.  What  do  you  make  of 
the  man  ?  " 

I  looked  down.  "  He  is  a  compelling  man. 
He  has  a  hero's  frame." 

"I  am  not  blind.  I  asked  what  the  frame 
housed." 

With  hate  in  my  throat  I  tried  to  speak  justly. 
"He  has  an  intelligent  mind,  but  a  coward's 
spirit.  I  think  the  two  elements  war  in  him 
ceaselessly.  I  would  not  trust  him,  monsieur. 
Is  he  on  friendly  terms  with  Pemaou  now?" 

"I  do  not  know." 


344  MONTLIVET 

"I  wish  you  would  find  out  for  me.  You  have 
agents." 

"Madame  de  Montlivet  could  tell  you." 

I  felt  Cadillac's  eyes.  "I  shall  not  question 
Madame  de  Montlivet  about  her  cousin." 

Perhaps  my  tone  was  weary.  It  is  hard  to 
hold  up  a  shield  night  and  day.  I  was  conscious 
that  Cadillac's  look  altered.  He  withdrew  his 
glance;  he  pushed  a  hand  toward  me. 

"It  is  a  shame,  Montlivet." 

"Shall  we  let  it  go  without  discussion,  mon 
sieur?" 

"No.  Montlivet,  you  are  more  a  fool  than 
any  man  I  ever  knew.  You  have  more  strained 
ideas.  You  are  preposterous.  You  belong  to 
the  Middle  Ages.  Every  one  says  so.  Let  me 
speak." 

"Not  about  my  marriage,  monsieur." 

"  Why  not  ?  I  am  responsible.  I  let  you  sad 
dle  yourself  with  the  situation.  You  did  it  partly 
to  save  me.  You  are  always  doing  some  crack- 
brained  thing  like  that.  I  tell  you,  you  are  more 
a  fool  than  I  ever  knew.  Perhaps  that  is  the 
reason  that  we  all  went  into  mourning  when  we 
thought  the  Iroquois  had  you." 

* '  Monsieur !     Monsieur ! ' ' 

"No,  wait,  wait!  I  got  you  into  this,  I  shall 
get  you  out.  Unless  the  Indians  make  trouble 
I  shall  send  Starling  home  with  a  convoy  of  my 


OVER  CADILLAC'S  TABLE        345 

own  Indians.  Your  —  the  woman  shall  go  with 
him.  Then  we  will  see  what  can  be  done  about 
the  marriage.  The  story  shall  go  to  the  Vatican." 

I  moved  the  candles  that  I  might  see  his  face 
without  the  play  of  light  and  shadow  between. 

"Monsieur,  you  forget.  The  story  that  you 
speak  of  is  mine.  If  I  wish  to  refer  it  to  the 
Vatican,  I,  myself,  take  it  there.  As  to  Madame 
de  Montlivet,  —  she  may  wish  to  go  east  with  her 
cousin ;  she  may  wish  to  remain  here.  The  de 
cision  will  rest  with  her.  Monsieur  ?  " 

''Yes,  monsieur." 

"  I  may  depend  on  you  not  to  mention  what  we 
have  just  said  to  any  one?" 

He  gave  me  his  hand.  "Naturally,  mon 
sieur." 

His  tone  touched  me. 

'Then  to  to-morrow's  work,"  I  said  briskly. 
"  Now  I  am  to  bed.  I  must  rise  early." 

Cadillac  went  with  me  to  the  door,  his  arm 
on  my  well  shoulder.  I  saw  by  the  delay  in  his 
walk  that  he  had  more  to  say.  It  came  slowly. 

"Monsieur,  one  word.  If  you  do  not  care  to 
see  madame,  —  if  it  is  awkward  —  Well,  I  can 
arrange  it  without  gossip.  You  need  not  see  her 
again,  and  no  one  need  know.  Leave  that  to  me." 

Not  see  her  again!  I  do  not  know  what  sav 
age,  insane  thing  sprang  to  life  in  me.  I  struck 
down  Cadillac's  arm. 


346  MONTLIVET 

"You  take  liberties.  You  meddle  insuffer 
ably.  She  is  my  wife.  I  will  see  her  when  I 
please." 

I  like  to  think  that  I  was  not  responsible, 
that  it  was  the  cry  of  a  baited  animal  that  could 
stand  no  more.  Yet  all  the  torture  Cadillac 
had  been  giving  me  had  been  unconscious.  He 
stepped  back  and  looked  at  me. 

"My  God!     You  fool!" 

Oh,  I  could  have  knelt  to  him  for  shame !  My 
tongue  began  apology,  but  my  face  told  a  better 
tale.  Cadillac  held  up  his  hand. 

"Stop.  Montlivet,  you  love  the  Englishwo 
man  ?  Why,  I  thought  —  I  beg  your  pardon. 
I  was  the  fool." 

I  went  stumblingly  toward  the  door  before  I 
could  face  him.  Then  I  turned  and  held  out 
my  hand.  "There  is  no  monopoly  in  fools. 
Monsieur,  if  to  love  a  woman,  to  love  her  against 
her  will  and  your  own  judgment,  to  love  her 
hopelessly,  —  if  that  is  folly,  well,  I  am  the  worst 
of  fools,  the  most  incurable.  I  am  glad  for  you 
to  know  this.  Will  you  forget  that  I  was  a  mad 
man,  monsieur?" 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

FROM    HOUR   TO    HOUR 

IT  was  well  that  I  slept  alone  that  night,  for 
more  than  once  before  day  dawned  I  found  my 
self  with  my  feet  on  the  floor  and  my  free  arm 
searching  for  a  knife.  I  had  flouted  at  imagi 
nation,  but  now  every  howling  dog  became  an 
Indian  raising  the  death  cry.  I  asked  Cadillac 
to  double  the  guard  before  the  woman's  quarters, 
but  even  then  I  slept  with  an  ear  pricked  for 
trouble.  And  I  was  abroad  early. 

There  are  no  straight  roads  in  the  wilderness; 
all  trails  are  devious.  So  with  an  Indian's  mind. 
I  sat  in  Longuant's  skin-roofed  lodge  and  filled 
hours  with  talk  of  Singing  Arrow.  The  girl  was 
to  wed  Pierre  at  noon  the  next  day.  The  mar 
riage  was  to  be  solemnized  in  the  chapel  the  next 
afternoon,  and  the  whites  were  to  attend.  The 
affair  was  perhaps  worth  some  talk,  if  Longuant 
and  I  had  been  squaws  yawning  over  our  basket- 
work.  But  we  were  men  with  knives,  and  Fear 
was  whispering  at  our  shoulders. 

The  sun  climbed,  and  noises  and  odors  of  mid 
day  came  in  the  tent  door.  I  plumped  out  a 
direct  question. 


348  MONTLIVET 

"The  tree  of  friendship  that  grows  for  the 
Ottawas  and  the  French,  —  are  its  roots  deep, 
Longuant?" 

The  old  chief  looked  at  me.  "What  has  my 
brother  seen  ?" 

"The  Iroquois  wolf,  my  brother.  The  Iro- 
quois  wolf  snapping  at  the  roots  of  this  stately 
tree.  What  will  the  Ottawas  do,  Longuant? 
Will  they  drive  the  wolf  away?" 

The  chief  still  studied  me.  "When  a  tree  is 
healthy,"  he  argued,  "a  wolf  cannot  harm  it;  as 
well  dread  the  butterfly  that  lights  on  its  leaves 
or  the  ant  that  runs  around  its  trunk.  It  is  only 
when  a  tree  is  unsound  at  heart  that  the  snapping 
of  a  wolf  can  jar  it.  And  an  unsound  tree  is  dan 
gerous.  My  brother  will  agree  that  it  is  best 
to  cut  it  down." 

I  rose.  "  The  wolf  can  do  more  than  snap ;  his 
fangs  are  poisoned.  Listen,  my  brother.  This 
tree  of  friendship  is  dear  to  me.  I  have  given 
labor  to  preserve  it;  I  have  watered  it;  I  have 
killed  the  insects  and  small  pests  that  would  have 
nibbled  at  its  branches.  Now  that  I  see  its  roots 
threatened,  my  heart  is  heavy  and  the  sun  looks 
dim.  Can  my  brother  brighten  the  world  for  me  ? 
Can  he  tell  me  that  my  fears  are  light  as  mist?" 

Longuant  looked  at  the  ground.  In  repose 
his  face  was  very  sad,  as  are  the  faces  of  most 
savage  leaders. 


FROM  HOUR  TO  HOUR  349 

"I  have  only  two  eyes,  two  ears,"  he  crooned 
monotonously.  "  My  brother  has  as  many.  Let 
him  use  them." 

"And  you  will  not  lift  your  hatchet  to  save  the 
tree?" 

Longuant  raised  his  eyes.  "The  hatchet  of 
the  Ottawas  is  always  bright.  My  brethren  will 
hold  it  in  readiness.  If  the  tree  looks  strong  and 
worth  saving,  they  will  raise  the  hatchet  and  de 
fend  it.  If  the  tree  is  unsound,  they  will  put  the 
hatchet  at  its  roots." 

Well,  I  had  my  answer.  And,  to  be  just,  I 
could  not  blame  them.  The  Ottawas  were  never 
a  commanding  people.  Their  chief  was  wise 
to  throw  his  vote  with  the  winning  side.  But 
I  turned  away  saddened. 

Longuant  followed.  "There  is  always  a  bed 
in  the  lodges  of  the  Ottawas  for  my  brother  of 
the  red  heart.  Will  he  sleep  in  it?" 

I  turned.  "Would  my  head  be  safer  if  I  did, 
O  brother  of  the  wise  tongue?" 

"My  brother  has  said  it." 

I  took  a  Flemish  knife  from  my  pocket  and 
handed  it  to  him. 

"Take  it,  my  brother,  for  my  gratitude.  It 
shall  not  cut  the  friendship  between  us.  It  shall 
cut  any  stranger  that  would  come  between  your 
heart  and  mine.  Longuant,  I  have  a  wife.  She 
is  fair,  and  stars  shine  in  her  eyes.  She  has 


350  MONTLIVET 

loved  a  daughter  of  your  people.  I  cannot  hide 
in  your  lodge,  —  a  man  who  carries  a  sword 
must  use  it,  —  but  will  you  take  my  wife  and  keep 
her  ?  Will  you  keep  her  with  Singing  Arrow  for 
a  few  days?" 

Longuant  thought  a  moment.  He  looked  at 
the  knife  as  if  it  were  a  talisman  to  teach  him 
how  much  he  could  trust  me;  he  tried  its  edge, 
put  it  in  his  pouch,  and  made  up  his  mind. 

"  My  brother  is  keen  and  true  as  the  blade  of 
the  knife.  I  will  tell  him  a  story,  a  story  that 
the  birds  sang.  The  eagle  once  married.  He 
married  one  of  the  family  of  the  hawk.  But  the 
hawk  found  the  eagle's  nest  too  high,  so  she  flew 
lower  to  a  nest  near  her  own  kin.  Listen.  So 
long  as  the  hawk  stays  near  the  hawk  and  is 
not  seen  with  the  eagle,  the  wolf  will  spare  her. 
But  when  she  comes  back  to  the  eagle's  nest 
in  the  high  tree,  then  let  her  beware.  I  have 
spoken.  Now  let  my  brother  go  on  his  way  and 
see  what  his  eyes  and  ears  can  teach  him." 

But  I  went  my  way  with  thought  busier  than 
eyes.  So  I  must  keep  away  from  the  woman. 
I  went  to  my  room,  found  paper  and  a  quill,  and 
wrote  to  her.  It  was  the  first  time  I  had  written 
her  name.  It  seemed  foreign  to  me,  almost  a  sad 
jest,  as  it  flowed  out  under  my  hand. 

"I  cannot  come  to  you  to-day,"  I  wrote; 
"perhaps  not  for  some  days  to  come.  I  shall  be 


FROM  HOUR  TO  HOUR          351 

watching  you,  guarding  you.  I  think  I  can  assure 
you  that  you  are  in  no  danger.  For  the  rest,  I 
must  beg  of  you  to  wait  for  me  and  to  trust  me. 
The  women  of  the  name  you  bear  have  often  had 
the  same  burden  laid  on  them  and  have  carried 
it  nobly.  Yet  I  know  that  your  courage  will 
match  and  overreach  anything  they  have  shown. 
I  salute  you,  madame,  in  homage.  I  shall  come 
to  you  the  moment  that  I  may." 

I  subscribed  myself  her  husband.  Yet  even 
the  Indians  gossiped  that  the  eagle's  nest  was 
empty.  Well,  I  had  work  on  hand. 

So  I  found  Cadillac.  I  told  him  in  five  min 
utes  what  it  had  taken  me  five  hours  to  learn. 

"  We  must  give  our  strength  now  to  winning 
the  Hurons,"  I  said.  "I  will  work  with  them 
this  afternoon.  If  we  can  get  through  this 
one  night  safely  I  think  we  can  carry  the  coun 
cil." 

Cadillac  shrugged,  but  sped  me  on  my  way. 
"  Be  careful  of  to-night.  Be  careful  of  to-night," 
he  repeated  monotonously.  His  eyes  were  grow 
ing  bloodshot  from  anxiety  and  loss  of  sleep. 

The  afternoon  slipped  away  from  me  like  run 
ning  water,  yet  I  wasted  no  word  or  look.  I 
dropped  my  old  custom  of  letting  my  tongue  win 
the  way  for  my  ears,  and  I  dealt  out  blunt  ques 
tions  like  a  man  at  a  forge.  At  one  point  I  was 
foiled.  I  could  not  discover  whether  Starling  — 


352  MONTLIVET 

whom  personally  I  had  not  seen  —  was  in  com 
munication  with  the  Hurons. 

The  sun  set,  the  sky  purpled,  and  the  moon 
rose.  It  rose  white  and  beautiful,  and  it  shone 
on  a  peaceful  settlement.  I  went  to  my  room 
and  found  a  Huron  squatting  on  my  threshold. 
He  gave  me  a  handful  of  maize. 

"Our  chief,  whom  you  call  the  Baron,  sends 
this  to  you,"  he  said.  "He  bids  you  eat  the 
corn,  and  swallow  with  it  the  suspicion  that  you 
feel.  You  have  sat  all  day  with  other  chiefs, 
but  your  brother  the  Baron  has  not  seen  you. 
His  lodge  cries  out  with  emptiness.  He  bids  you 
come  to  him  now." 

I  thought  a  moment.  "  Go  in  front  of  me,"  I 
told  the  Huron. 

I  whistled  as  I  went.  A  sheep  that  goes  to 
the  shambles  of  its  own  accord  deserves  to  be 
butchered,  and  I  was  walking  into  ambush.  But 
still  I  whistled.  I  whistled  the  same  tune  again 
and  again,  and  I  did  it  with  great  lung  power. 
My  progress  was  noisy. 

And  so  we  went  through  the  Huron  camp. 
The  lodges  of  the  Baron's  followers  were  massed 
to  one  side,  and  as  I  whistled  and  swaggered  my 
way  past  their  great  bark  parallelograms,  I  saw 
preparations  for  war.  The  braves  carried  quiv 
ers,  and  were  elaborately  painted.  Fires  were 
burning,  though  the  night  was  warm,  and  women 


FROM  HOUR  TO  HOUR          353 

nearly  naked,  and  swinging  kettles  of  red-hot 
coals,  danced  heavily  around  the  blaze.  They 
leered  at  me  when  they  heard  my  whistle,  but 
they  made  no  attempt  to  hide  from  me.  Evi 
dently  I  was  not  important;  I  was  not  to  be  al 
lowed  to  go  back  to  the  French  camp  alive,  so 
I  could  do  no  harm.  I  whistled  the  louder. 

I  reached  the  Baron's  lodge,  and  looked  within. 
Two  fires  blazed  in  the  centre,  and  some  fifty 
Indians  sat  in  council.  I  would  not  enter.  The 
smoke  and  fire  were  in  my  eyes,  but  I  recognized 
several  of  the  younger  chiefs,  and  called  them  by 
name. 

"Come  out  here  to  me,"  I  commanded.  "I 
will  show  you  something." 

There  was  a  grunting  demur,  and  no  one  rose. 
I  whistled  again  and  stopped  to  laugh.  The 
laugh  pricked  their  curiosity,  and  the  chiefs 
straggled  out.  They  stood  in  an  uncertain 
group  and  looked  at  me.  It  was  dark ;  the  moon 
was  still  low,  and  the  shadows  black  and  sprawl 
ing.  The  open  doors  of  the  lodges  sent  out  as 
much  smoke  as  fireshine. 

I  let  them  look  for  a  moment,  then  I  took  the 
handful  of  maize  and  threw  it  in  their  faces. 
"Listen!"  I  cried.  "Chiefs,  you  are  traitors. 
You  eat  the  bread  of  the  French,  yet  you  would 
betray  them.  You  plan  an  uprising  to-night. 
Well,  you  will  find  us  ready.  I  whistled  as  I 


354  MONTLIVET 

came  to  you.  That  was  a  signal.  You  think 
you  can  overpower  us.  Try  it.  Seize  me,  if  you 
like.  If  you  do,  I  shall  give  one  more  whistle, 
and  my  troops  —  the  loyal  Indians  —  will  go  to 
work.  You  can  see  them  gathering.  Look." 

I  waved  my  hand  at  the  murk  around  us.  My 
words  were  brave  but  my  flesh  was  cold.  I  had 
told  them  to  look,  but  what  would  they  see? 
Would  my  men  be  loyal  ?  Then  the  signal,  — 
it  had  been  hastily  agreed  upon,  —  would  they 
understand  it?  I  had  to  push  myself  around 
like  a  dead  body  to  face  what  I  might  find. 

For  a  moment  I  thought  that  I  had  found  no 
thing.  But  I  looked  again,  and  saw  that  my 
eyes  had  been  made  blank  by  fear.  For  my 
men  were  massed  to  east  and  west.  They 
pressed  nearer  and  nearer,  and  the  moon  picked 
out  points  of  light  that  marked  knives  and  arque 
buses.  Some  wore  uniforms,  and  some  were 
naked  and  vermilion-dyed,  but  all  were  watching 
me.  I  could  not  see  their  eyes,  but  I  was  con 
scious  of  them. 

I  pointed  the  chiefs  to  the  prospect.  'You 
see.  I  have  only  to  whistle,  and  we  shall  settle 
this  question  of  who  is  master  here.  Seize  me, 
and  I  shall  whistle.  But  I  shall  do  nothing  till 
you  move  first.  If  we  are  to  have  war,  you  must 
begin  it.  Are  you  ready?" 

Silence  followed.     It  was  a  hard  silence  for  me 


FROM  HOUR  TO  HOUR          355 

to  get  through  calmly,  for  I  knew  that  my  men 
were  not  so  numerous  as  they  appeared,  and  I 
feared  to  be  taken  at  my  word.  Pemaou  glided 
up  and  spoke  to  his  father.  I  had  not  seen  him 
since  the  night  in  the  Seneca  camp,  and  I  argued 
with  myself  to  keep  my  head  cool  so  that  I 
should  not  spring  on  him.  His  body  was  black 
ened  with  charcoal,  and  he  wore  a  girdle  of  otter 
skin  with  the  body  of  a  crow  hanging  from  it.  I 
had  sometimes  been  called  the  crow  because  of 
my  many  tongues,  and  I  understood  his  meaning. 
But  I  could  only  stand  waiting,  and  the  moments 
went  on  and  on. 

It  was  a  small  thing  that  determined  the  issue. 
In  the  distance  Pierre  began  to  whistle, —  Pierre, 
the  bridegroom  of  the  morrow,  the  merry  bully 
of  the  night.  He  had  a  whistle  in  keeping  with 
his  breadth  of  shoulder,  and  he  used  it  like  a 
mating  cock.  He  whistled  my  tune,  the  signal. 
It  was  not  accident,  I  think,  neither  was  it  de 
sign.  It  was  his  unconscious,  blundering  black 
art,  his  intuition  that  was  witchcraft. 

The  Baron  drew  himself  up.  He  put  out  a 
protesting  hand,  and  his  dignity  of  gesture  would 
have  shamed  an  Israelitish  patriarch. 

"We  called  our  brother  to  council.  What 
does  our  brother  mean  ?  He  is  moon-mad  when 
he  talks  of  war  in  the  house  of  his  friends,  the 
Hurons." 


356  MONTLIVET 

I  yawned  in  his  face.  :<You  called  me  to 
council  ?  But  the  council  is  to-morrow  night. 
The  commandant  calls  it.  Save  your  fair  words 
for  him." 

I  turned  on  my  heel  to  leave,  but  the  Baron 
held  me.  He  eyed  me  above  his  blanket. 

"My  brother  has  been  called  the  man  who 
steals  the  Indian's  heart  from  his  body,"  he 
purred  at  me.  "  He  has  stolen  mine.  The  com 
mandant  is  a  fool ;  I  cannot  talk  to  him.  But 
to  you,  my  brother,  I  can  open  my  heart.  Come 
with  me  to  my  lodge  and  listen.  You  shall  be 
safe.  In  token  of  my  love  I  give  you  this  calu 
met,"  and  he  took  his  great  feathered  pipe  —  the 
pipe  that  means  honor  to  the  lowest  of  savages 
—  and  would  have  thrust  it  in  my  hands. 

I  was  too  nonplussed  to  remember  to  laugh. 
An  offer  to  buy  me,  and  from  the  Indian  who 
hated  me  most !  They  must  indeed  be  afraid  of 
me,  —  and  with  what  little  cause.  Where  had  my 
reputation  come?  I  knew  my  own  weakness. 
Well,  I  must  play  on  my  fame  while  it  lasted. 
So,  without  deigning  to  answer,  I  turned  away. 
My  troops  hedged  me  like  a  wall  as  I  went  back 
to  the  French  camp,  but  I  did  not  speak  to  them. 
It  was  strange  to  see  them  melt  before  me.  I  did 
not  wonder  that  the  Hurons  smelled  witchcraft 
where,  in  fact,  there  was  only  bluster  and  a  plead 
ing  tongue. 


FROM  HOUR  TO  HOUR          357 

I  stood  for  a  moment  and  looked  at  the  garri 
son.  The  moon  had  crept  high  and  the  place 
was  very  still.  We  were  safe  for  the  night.  I 
lit  my  pipe,  and  the  smoke  that  spiraled  above 
me  did  not  seem  more  filmy  than  the  chance  that 
had  saved  us.  I  suddenly  shivered.  But  we  were 
safe.  I  gave  the  troops  the  signal  to  disband. 

I  stopped  for  a  moment  at  Cadillac's  door. 
"Sleep  well,"  I  said,  with  my  hand  on  his;  "we 
have  bridged  to-night.  Now  for  the  council  to 
morrow.  " 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

IN   COUNCIL 

THE  next  morning  showed  the  face  of  War 
without  her  mask.  The  Indians  sat  in  open 
council,  and  the  tom-toms  sounded  from  lodge 
to  lodge.  In  the  Huron  camp  there  were  coun 
cil  rings  of  the  women ;  it  was  a  tribal  crisis  and 
was  met  by  a  frenzy  of  speech-making.  As  a 
rival  interest  Singing  Arrow's  wedding  made  lit 
tle  stir. 

I  went  to  the  wedding  and  saw  Pierre  the 
savage  transformed  into  Pierre  the  citizen,  the 
yoke -bearer.  I  feared  the  transformation  was 
not  final.  Yet  I  could  never  read  my  giant. 
There  were  unexpected  ridges  of  principle  in  the 
general  slough  of  his  makeup  and  perhaps  the 
Indian  girl  was  resting  on  one  of  them. 

The  woman  came  to  the  wedding,  Starling 
with  her.  I  bowed  to  them  both,  but  I  would 
do  no  more,  for  the  Indians  were  watching.  The 
woman  looked  pale  and  grave.  I  had  seen  her 
angry  and  I  had  seen  her  despairing,  but  I  had 
never  before  seen  her  dispirited.  She  looked  so 
now. 

And    then    came    the    general    council    with 


IN  COUNCIL  359 

Cadillac  in  the  chair.  It  was  held  in  a  barrack 
room  and  the  tribes  had  forty  chiefs  in  waiting. 
There  were  Ottawas,  Hurons,  and  the  party  of 
Senecas.  Feathered  and  painted,  they  were  as  ex 
pressionless  as  the  stone  calumets  in  their  hands ; 
by  contrast,  our  French  faces  were  childishly 
open  and  expressive. 

Cadillac  looked  them  over  and  began  his 
speech.  Commonly  his  tongue  ran  trippingly, 
but  with  the  opening  words  his  speech  halted.  I 
knew  he  was  moved.  With  all  his  volubility 
the  man  took  responsibility  heavily,  and  these 
strange  bronze  men  with  their  cruel  eyes  and 
impassive  faces  were  his  wards.  He  spoke  in 
French,  and  I  translated  first  to  the  Hurons,  then 
to  the  Ottawas.  He  called  the  tribes  to  aid  him 
in  brightening  the  covenant  chain,  and  his  rheto 
ric  mounted  with  his  theme  till  I  felt  my  blood 
heat  with  admiration  for  him.  He  concluded 
with  a  plea  for  loyalty,  and  he  gave  each  nation 
a  belt  to  bind  his  words. 

And  then  the  chiefs  rose  in  reply.  The  Hurons 
spoke  first,  and  though  they  hedged  their  mean 
ing  by  look  and  word  I  could  feel  the  sentiment 
swaying  toward  our  side.  They  brought  up 
many  minor  points  and  gave  belts  in  confirma 
tion.  Kondiaronk's  clan  were  openly  friendly, 
openly  touched  by  Cadillac's  speech,  and  when 
one  of  the  Baron's  band  took  the  cue  and  gave 


360  MONTLIVET 

a  wampum  necklace,  "to  deter  the  French 
brothers  from  unkind  thoughts,"  I  felt  that  the 
worst  of  the  day  was  over,  and  welcomed  the 
Ottawa  speakers  with  a  relaxation  of  the  ten 
sion  that  had  held  me,  for  I  had  been  upon  the 
rack.  Mind  and  ear  had  been  taxed  to  miss  no 
word  or  intonation,  for  a  slighted  syllable  might 
lose  our  cause.  The  speeches  had  droned  like 
flies  at  midday,  but  all  the  verbiage  had  been 
heavy  with  significance.  I  spoke  French,  Huron, 
and  Ottawa  in  turn,  and  through  it  all  I  listened, 
listened  for  the  opening  of  the  door. 

For  Cadillac  had  told  me  that  Madame  de 
Montlivet  had  asked  if  she  might  come  in  for  a 
moment  and  listen  to  the  council,  and  he  had 
referred  the  matter  to  me.  It  had  seemed  a 
strange  request,  but  I  could  see  no  reason  for 
refusing  it.  The  woman  had  seen  Indians  in 
camp  and  field;  it  was  perhaps  no  wonder  that 
she  wished  to  see  the  machinery  of  their  politics. 
It  was  agreed  that  Dubisson  should  bring  her 
in  for  a  short  time. 

Yet  when  she  did  come  in  I  could  not  look  at 
her.  Longuant  had  just  finished  speaking,  and 
I  had  all  my  mind  could  handle  to  do  him  justice 
as  I  wished.  He  spoke  as  the  moderate  leader 
who  desired  that  his  people  leave  the  hatchet 
unlifted  if  they  could  do  so  with  safety.  He 
gave  a  robe  stained  with  red  to  show  that  his 


IN  COUNCIL  361 

people  remembered  the  French  who  had  died 
for  them. 

I  knew,  as  I  repeated  Longuant's  speech,  that 
I  was  doing  it  well,  helping  it  out  with  trick  and 
metaphor.  And  I  also  knew,  with  a  shrug  for 
my  childishness,  that  my  wits  were  working  more 
swiftly  than  they  had,  because  the  woman  was 
listening.  I  saw  the  whole  scene  with  added  viv 
idness  and  significance  because  her  eyes  rested 
on  it,  too.  Once  I  glanced  up  and  looked  at  her 
briefly.  Day  had  slipped  into  dusk,  and  the 
bare,  shadow-haunted  room  was  lighted  with 
torches  stuck  in  the  crannies  of  the  log  walls. 
The  flaring  light  lapped  her  like  a  waving  gar 
ment  and  showed  her  daintily  erect,  silk-clad, 
elate  and  resolute,  a  flower  of  a  carefully  tended 
civilization.  And  then  my  eyes  went  back 
where  they  belonged,  to  the  lines  of  warriors 
robed  like  senators,  attentive  and  august,  full 
of  wisdom  where  the  woman  knew  nothing,  yet 
blank  as  animals  to  the  treasures  of  her  mind. 
The  contrast  thrilled  through  me  like  a  violin 
note.  I  heard  my  tongue  use  imagery  that  I  did 
not  know  was  in  me.  The  woman  waited  till 
I  was  through,  and  I  could  feel  that  she  was  lis 
tening.  Then  she  turned  with  Dubisson  and  they 
went  out  of  the  door. 

Longuant  was  the  last  of  our  garrison  Indians 
to  speak,  and  when  he  finished  it  remained  to 


362  MONTLIVET 

Cadillac  to  sum  up  the  situation.  He  picked 
out  the  oldest  men  from  each  delegation  and 
stood  before  them.  Yet,  though  he  spoke  to  all, 
it  was  at  Longuant  that  he  looked. 

"Listen,"  he  said.  "Hast  ever  seen  the  moon 
in  the  lake  when  the  evening  is  clear  and  the 
weather  calm  ?  It  appears  in  the  water,  yet  no 
thing  is  truer  than  that  it  is  in  the  sky.  Some 
among  you  are  very  old;  but  know,  that  were 
you  all  to  return  to  early  youth  and  take  it  into 
your  heads  to  fish  up  the  moon  in  the  lake,  you 
would  more  easily  succeed  in  scooping  that  planet 
up  in  your  nets  than  in  effecting  what  you  are 
ruminating  now.  In  vain  do  you  fatigue  your 
brains.  You  cannot  live  with  the  bear  and  share 
your  food  with  the  wolf.  You  must  choose.  Be 
assured  of  this;  the  English  and  French  can 
not  be  in  the  same  place  without  killing  one 
another." 

There  was  more  in  the  same  vein.  Only  one 
nation  could  hold  the  country  for  the  fur  trade. 
If  the  French  were  that  nation  the  Indians  would 
be  protected,  their  fighting  men  would  be  given 
arms,  their  families  would  be  cared  for,  the 
great  father  at  Quebec  would  reward  them  as 
brothers.  He  gave  the  Hurons  and  Ottawas 
each  a  war  belt  to  testify  to  his  intention. 

Here  was  the  crisis.  But  each  tribe  took  the 
belt  and  kept  it.  I  could  scarcely  forbear  glan- 


IN   COUNCIL  363 

cing  at  Cadillac.  But  I  dared  not  be  too  elated, 
for  we  had  yet  the  Senecas  to  deal  with.  Cadil 
lac  turned  to  them  and  asked  their  mission  among 
us.  He  did  it  briefly,  and  I  hoped  they  would 
answer  with  equal  bluntness,  for  I  dreaded  this 
part  of  the  council.  All  of  the  Iroquois  nations 
were  trained  rhetoricians,  and  I  would  need  a 
long  ear  to  catch  their  verbal  quibbles  and  see 
where  their  sophistry  was  hiding. 

Cannehoot,  their  oldest  chief,  spoke  for  them 
all.  He  made  proposal  after  proposal  with  belts 
and  tokens  to  seal  them.  His  speech  was  mod 
erate,  but  his  ideas  crowded ;  it  was  hard  to  keep 
them  in  sequence. 

They  had  come  to  learn  wisdom  of  us.  They 
gave  a  belt. 

They  had  come  to  wipe  the  war  paint  from  our 
soldiers'  faces.  They  gave  another  belt. 

They  wished  the  sun  to  shine  on  us.  They 
gave  a  large  marble  as  red  as  the  sun. 

They  wished  the  rain  of  heaven  to  wash  away 
hatred.  They  gave  a  chain  of  wampum. 

And  so  on  and  on  and  on.  They  gave  belts, 
beavers,  trinkets.  They  had  peace  in  their 
mouths  and  kindness  in  their  hearts.  They 
desired  to  tie  up  the  hatchet,  to  sweep  the  road 
between  the  French  and  themselves  free  from 
blood.  But  with  that  clause  they  gave  no  belt. 
They  made  no  mention  of  the  English  prisoners, 


364  MONTLIVET 

and  they  desired  to  close  their  friendly  visit  and 
to  go  home. 

Cadillac  looked  at  them  with  contempt.  He 
was  always  too  choleric  to  hide  his  mind,  and  he 
answered  with  little  pretense  at  civility.  He  gave 
them  permission  to  go  home,  and  sent  a  knife 
by  them  to  their  kindred.  It  was  not  for  war, 
he  told  them,  but  that  they  might  cut  the  veil 
that  hung  before  their  eyes,  and  see  things  as 
they  really  were.  He  left  their  belts  lying  on  the 
floor,  and  dismissed  the  council.  He  motioned 
to  me  to  follow,  and  we  went  at  once  to  his  room. 

And  alone  in  his  room  we  looked  at  each  other 
with  relief.  We  had  gained  one  point,  and  though 
the  road  was  long  ahead,  we  could  breathe  for  a 
moment.  We  had  not  healed  the  sore,  but  it  was 
covered,  cauterized.  We  dropped  into  chairs 
and  sought  our  pipes. 

But  Cadillac's  fingers  were  soon  drumming. 
"  It  was  odd  that  they  did  not  demand  the  Eng 
lish  prisoners,"  he  said. 

I  felt  placid  enough  as  regarded  that  point. 
"They  did  not  dare.  When  do  the  Senecas 
leave?" 

"To-morrow  morning.  Oh,  Montlivet,  it 
grinds  me  to  let  them  go!" 

I  shrugged  at  his  choler.  "  We  will  follow,"  I 
comforted.  "  We  will  overtake  them  at  La  Baye." 

"  But  suppose  they  leave  La  Baye.     They  may 


IN  COUNCIL  365 

break  camp  at  once  and  push  on.  We  may  miss 
them." 

I  smoked,  and  shook  my  head.  "If  they  do, 
we  cannot  help  it.  But  I  think  there  is  no  dan 
ger.  They  will  want  to  halt  some  time  at  La 
Baye,  and  try  for  terms  with  those  tribes.  My 
work  there  has  been  secret,  —  even  Pemaou  does 
not  seem  to  know  of  it,  —  and  they  do  not  suspect 
a  coalition.  So  they  feel  safe.  I  think  that  we 
shall  find  them." 

And  then  we  sat  for  a  time  in  silence.  I  stared 
at  the  future,  and  saw  a  big  decision  beetling 
before  me.  When  I  dread  a  moment,  I  rush  to 
meet  it,  which  is  the  behavior  of  a  spoiled  boy. 

"You  will  get  rid  of  Starling  to-morrow?"  I 
asked. 

Cadillac  nodded.  '  Yes.  He  is  best  out  of  the 
way,  and,  though  I  see  nothing  to  mistrust  in 
the  man,  I  shall  feel  better  if  he  goes  east  while 
the  Senecas  go  west." 

"How  will  you  send  him?" 

"To  Montreal  with  an  escort  of  Ottawas. 
From  there  he  can  make  his  own  way." 

I  looked  down.  "Madame  de  Montlivet  may 
wish  to  go  at  the  same  time.  You  must  arrange 
for  her  also  if  she  wishes." 

Cadillac  shrugged.  'You  leave  the  decision 
with  her?" 

"Absolutely,  monsieur." 


366  MONTLIVET 

Cadillac  rapped  his  knuckles  together.  "  Don't 
run  romanticism  into  the  ground,  Montlivet." 

But  my  inflammable  temper  did  not  rise.  "A 
woman  certainly  has  some  right  of  selection. 
Starling  says  that  I  forced  her  to  marry  me. 
That  is  substantially  true.  What  time  do  you 
plan  to  have  Starling  leave?" 

"As  early  as  possible.  I  shall  not  tell  him  to 
night.  It  will  take  a  little  time  to  get  the  canoes 
in  readiness." 

"Then  I  shall  see  Madame  de  Montlivet  in  the 
morning,  as  early  as  possible.  I  shall  let  you 
know  her  decision  at  once,  monsieur." 

"Montlivet,  she  will  need  time  to  consider." 

I  shook  my  head.  "She  has  thought  the 
matter  out.  I  think  her  answer  will  be  ready." 
And  then  we  said  good-night. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

CHILDREN    OF   OPPORTUNITY 

IT  was  but  little  after  dawn  the  next  morning 
when  I  met  Madame  de  Montlivet  in  the  waiting- 
room  of  the  commandant. 

It  was  a  crisp,  clear  morning,  blue  of  water  and 
sky.  I  stood  at  the  window  and  looked  at  the 
water-way  that  led  to  the  east,  and  waited  for  my 
wife.  I  had  several  speeches  prepared  for  her, 
but  when  she  came  I  said  none  of  them.  I  took 
her  hand  and  led  her  to  the  window. 

"Look  at  the  path  of  the  sun,  madame.  It 
was  just  such  a  morning  when  you  came  to  me 
first." 

Her  hand  lingered  a  moment  in  mine.  "I 
came  to  the  most  gallant  gentleman  that  I  have 
ever  known." 

With  all  the  kindness  of  her  words  there  was 
something  in  them  that  spoke  of  parting.  "Then 
will  you  stay  with  him?"  I  cried.  "Mary,  I 
know  no  gallant  gentleman.  To  me  he  seems 
much  a  fool  and  a  dreamer.  But  such  as  he  is 
he  is  loyally  yours.  Will  you  stay  with  him  ?  Or 
will  you  start  for  Montreal  this  morning  with 
your  cousin  ?" 


368  MONTLIVET 

"This  morning?" 

;'Yes,  as  soon  as  the  canoes  can  be  made 
ready.  I  did  not  know  this  till  after  midnight. 
I  wish  I  might  have  warned  you." 

''This  is  warning  enough.  I  was  sure  that 
this  was  what  you  had  to  tell  me  when  you  asked 
for  me  so  early.  There  is  but  one  thing  for  me  to 
do.  I  must  go  with  my  cousin." 

I  heard  the  words,  but  I  felt  incredulous,  stu 
pid.  I  was  prepared  to  meet  this  decision  after 
argument,  not  to  have  it  fall  on  me  in  this  leaden 
way.  I  dropped  her  hand  and  walked  to  and  fro. 
It  was  useless  to  ask  if  she  had  thought  out  her 
decision  carefully.  Her  tone  disposed  of  that. 
I  went  back  and  stood  before  her. 

"The  question  is  yours  to  decide.  Yet  I 
should  be  a  strange  man  if  I  let  you  go  without 
being  sure  I  understood  your  motives.  If  you  go 
because  you  wish  to  be  free  from  me,  —  that  is  all 
that  need  be  said.  But  if  I  have  failed  to  woo 
you  as  a  man  should  -  You  sealed  my  lips. 
Will  you  let  me  open  them  now?" 

Perhaps  my  hand  went  out  to  her.  At  all 
events  she  drew  away,  and  I  thought  her  look 
frightened,  as  if  something  urged  her  to  me  that 
she  must  resist. 

"No,  no,  you  must  not  woo  me,  you  must  not. 
I  beg  you,  monsieur." 

I  looked  at  her  panic  and  shook  my  head. 


CHILDREN  OF  OPPORTUNITY    369 

"Why  do  you  fear  to  love  me,  to  yield  to  me? 
You  are  my  wife." 

"  I  told  you.  I  told  you  the  day  —  the  last  day 
that  we  were  together  in  the  woods.  It  would  be 
a  tragedy  if  we  loved,  monsieur." 

"But  you  are  my  wife." 

She  looked  at  me.  The  light  from  the  window 
fell  full  in  her  great  eyes,  and  they  were  the  eyes 
of  the  boy  who  had  looked  up  at  me  in  that  very 
room ;  the  boy  who  had  captured  me,  against  my 
reason,  by  his  spirit  and  will.  I  felt  the  same 
challenge  now. 

"I  am  your  wife,  yes,"  she  was  saying  slowly. 
"That  is,  the  priest  said  some  words  over  us  that 
we  both  denied  in  our  hearts.  I  cannot  look  at 
marriage  in  that  way,  monsieur.  No  priest,  no 
ritual  can  make  a  marriage  if  the  right  thing 
is  not  there.  The  fact  that  you  gave  me  your 
name  to  shield  me  does  not  give  me  a  claim 
on  you  in  my  mind.  Wait.  Let  me  say  more. 
You  have  great  plans,  great  opportunity.  You 
will  make  a  great  leader,  monsieur." 

Her  words  sounded  mockery.  "Thank  you, 
madame."  I  knew  my  tone  was  bitter. 

She  looked  at  me  reproachfully.  "  Monsieur, 
you  are  unkind.  I  meant  what  I  said.  I  heard 
you  in  the  council  yesterday.  I  asked  to  go  in 
that  I  might  hear  you.  I  know  something  of 
what  you  have  done  this  summer.  I  know  how 


370  MONTLIVET 

you  fended  away  massacre  the  other  night. 
This  is  a  crucial  time,  and  you  are  the  only  man 
who  can  handle  the  situation ;  the  only  man  who 
has  influence  to  lead  the  united  tribes.  Your 
opportunity  is  wonderful.  You  are  making  his 
tory.  You  may  be  changing  the  map  of  nations, 
you  —  alone  here  —  working  with  a  few  Indians. 
Believe  me,  I  see  it  all.  It  is  wonderful,  mon 
sieur." 

"But  what  has  this  to  do  with  you  and  me ?" 
"Just  this,  monsieur.  I  cannot  forget  my 
blood.  I  am  an  Englishwoman.  I  come  of  a 
family  that  has  chosen  exile  rather  than  yield  a 
point  of  honor  that  involved  the  crown.  I  have 
been  bred  to  that  idea  of  country,  nurtured  on  it. 
Could  I  stay  with  you  and  see  you  work  against 
my  people  ?  If  I  were  a  different  sort  of  woman ; 
if  I  were  the  gentle  girl  that  you  should  marry,  — 
one  who  knew  no  life  but  flattery  and  courts,  like 
the  lady  of  the  miniature,  —  why,  then  it  might 
be  possible  for  me  to  think  of  you  only  in  relation 
to  myself,  and  to  forget  all  that  you  stood  for. 
But  I  am  —  what  I  am.  I  have  known  tragedy 
and  suffering.  I  cannot  blind  myself  with 
dreams  as  a  girl  might,  and  I  understand  fully  the 
significance  of  what  you  are  doing.  We  should 
have  a  divided  hearth,  monsieur." 

She  had  made  her  long  speech  with  breaks, 
but  I  had  not  interrupted  her.     And  now  that 


CHILDREN  OF  OPPORTUNITY    371 

she  had  finished  I  did  not  speak  till  she  looked  at 
me  in  wonder. 

"I  am  thinking.  I  see  that  it  comes  to  this, 
madame.  I  must  renounce  either  my  work  or 
my  wife." 

She  suddenly  stretched  out  her  hand.  "Oh, 
I  would  not  have  you  renounce  your  work,  mon 
sieur!" 

A  chair  stood  in  front  of  her,  and  I  brushed  it 
away  and  let  it  clatter  on  the  floor. 

"Mary!     Mary,  you  love  me!" 

"No,  no!"  she  cried.  "No,  monsieur,  it  need 
not  mean  I  love  you,  —  it  need  not."  She  fled 
from  me  and  placed  a  table  between  us.  "  Surely 
a  woman  can  understand  a  man's  power,  and 
glory  in  it  —  yes,  glory  in  it,  monsieur  —  with 
out  loving  the  man!" 

"But  if  you  did  love  me,  —  if  you  did  love  me, 
what  then  ?  " 

"Oh,  monsieur,  the  misery  of  it  for  us  if 
we  loved !  I  have  seen  it  from  the  beginning, 
though  at  times  I  forgot.  For  there  is  nothing 
for  us  but  to  part." 

"  Many  women  have  forgotten  country  for  their 
husbands.  The  world  has  called  them  wise." 

She  put  out  her  hand.  "Not  in  my  family, 
monsieur." 

And  then  the  face  of  Lord  Starling  came  before 
me.  "You  have  changed  from  the  woman  of 


372  MONTLIVET 

the  wilderness.  You  changed  when  you  put  on 
this  gown.  You  were  different  even  three  days 
ago.  Some  influence  has  worked  on  you  here." 

She  understood  me.  'Yes,  my  cousin  has 
talked  to  me.  Yet  I  think  that  I  am  not  echoing 
him,  monsieur.  If  I  have  hardened  in  the  last 
few  days,  it  is  because  I  have  come  to  see  the  in- 
evitableness  of  what  I  am  saying  now.  I  have 
grasped  the  terrible  significance  of  what  is  hap 
pening.  May  I  ask  you  some  questions  ?" 

"Yes,  Mary." 

"  Oh,  you  must  not  -  The  Seneca  messengers, 
you  will  let  them  go  back  and  rejoin  their  camp  ?  " 

"We  can  do  nothing  else." 

"And  you  will  follow  them,  and  attack  them  at 
La  Baye?" 

"So  we  plan." 

"But  the  Senecas  trust  you." 

"  Not  for  a  moment.  They  think  we  fear  their 
power  over  the  Hurons,  —  as  we  do,  —  so  they 
are  reckless.  They  are  undoubtedly  carrying 
peace  belts  from  our  Hurons  to  the  Iroquois  and 
the  English.  We  must  intercept  them." 

She  tried  to  ward  my  words,  and  all  that  they 
stood  for,  away.  'You  see!  You  see!"  she 
cried,  "we  must  part.  We  must  part  while  we 
can.  Monsieur,  say  no  more.  I  beg  you,  mon 
sieur."  And  she  dropped  in  a  chair  by  the  table 
and  laid  her  head  in  her  arms. 


CHILDREN  OF  OPPORTUNITY    373 

I  could  say  nothing.  I  stood  helpless  and 
dizzy.  I  had  asked  her  to  forget  her  country. 
Yet  not  once  had  she  asked  me  to  forget  mine. 
If  I  gave  up  my  plans  I  could  go  to  her  now  and 
draw  her  to  my  breast.  I  gripped  the  table,  and 
I  did  not  see  clearly.  To  save  her  life  I  had 
jeopardized  my  plans;  to  follow  her  here  I  had 
jeopardized  them  again.  But  now  that  I  knew 
her  to  be  safe  —  No,  I  could  not  turn  back;  I 
must  walk  the  path  I  had  laid  for  myself. 

"What  will  you  do  with  yourself,  with  your 
life  ?"  I  asked  with  stiff  lips. 

She  did  not  raise  her  head.  "We  are  both 
children  of  opportunity.  What  is  left  either  of  us 
but  ambition,  monsieur?" 

"You  will  help  your  cousin  in  his  plans  ?" 

"If  he  will  work  for  the  state." 

"But  you  will  not  marry  him?" 

"Monsieur,  I  bear  your  name!  That  —  that 
troubles  me  sorely.  To  bear  your  name  yet 
work  against  France!  Yet  what  can  I  do?" 

I  touched  her  hair.  "  Carry  my  name  and  do 
what  you  will.  I  shall  understand.  As  to  what 
the  world  thinks, —  we  are  past  caring  for  that, 
madame." 

And  then  for  a  time  we  sat  silent.  I  thought, 
with  stupid  iteration,  of  how  like  a  jest  this  had 
sounded  when  the  woman  said  it  to  me  in  the 
forest :  a  matter  for  coquetry,  a  furnishing  of  foils 


374  MONTLIVET 

for  the  game.     If  I  had  realized  then  —    But 
no,  what  could  I  have  done  ? 

One  thing  my  thought  cried  incessantly, — 
women  were  not  made  for  patriotism.  Yet  even 
as  accompaniment  to  the  thought,  a  long  line  of 
women  who  had  given  up  life  and  family  for 
country  passed  before  my  memory.  Could  I  say 
that  this  woman  beside  me  had  not  equal  spirit  ? 

It  seemed  long  that  we  sat  there,  though  I 
think  that  it  was  not.  I  laid  my  hand  on  hers, 
and  she  turned  her  palm  that  she  might  clasp  my 
fingers. 

'You  have  never  failed  me,  never,  never,"  she 
whispered.  'You  are  not  failing  me  now." 
And  then  I  heard  Starling's  voice  at  the  door 
calling  my  name. 

I  opened  to  him  mechanically,  and  accepted 
his  pleasant  phrases  with  a  face  like  wood, 
though  my  manner  was  apt  enough,  I  think.  I 
had  no  feeling  as  regarded  him;  all  my  thought 
was  with  the  woman  by  the  table. 

He  went  to  her  with  his  news,  but  she  inter 
rupted  him.  "I  know."  Her  face  was  as  ex 
pressionless  as  my  own.  "  I  am  going  with  you," 
she  said  to  him.  "  When  do  we  leave  ?" 

"In  a  few  minutes."  He  looked  from  one  to 
the  other  of  us,  and  if  he  could  not  probe  the  situ 
ation  it  was  perhaps  no  wonder.  We  had  forgot 
ten  him,  and  we  sat  like  dead  people.  For  once 


CHILDREN  OF  OPPORTUNITY    375 

his  tremendous,  compelling  presence  was  ignored, 
yet  my  tongue  replied  to  him  courteously,  and  I 
could  not  but  admit  the  perfection  of  his  attitude. 
He  deplored  the  necessity  that  took  his  cousin 
from  me ;  he,  and  all  of  his  people,  labored  under 
great  indebtedness  to  me.  He  was  dignified, 
direct  of  thought  and  speech.  The  man  whom 
I  had  seen  by  the  dead  ashes  of  the  camp  fire; 
the  man  who  had  held  my  wife's  miniature,  and 
taunted  me  with  what  it  meant,  —  that  man  was 
gone.  This  was  an  elder  brother,  a  grave  elder 
brother,  chastened  by  suffering. 

The  woman  closed  the  scene.  "I  am  pre 
pared  to  go  with  you,"  she  told  him.  "I  shall 
wait  here  till  the  canoes  are  ready.  Will  you 
leave  me  with  my  husband  ?" 

She  had  never  before  said  "husband"  in  my 
hearing.  As  soon  as  the  door  clicked  behind 
Starling  I  went  to  her.  I  knelt  and  laid  my  cheek 
on  her  hand. 

;'You  are  going  to  stay  with  me,  Mary.  You 
are  my  wife.  You  cannot  escape  that.  It  is 
fundamental.  Patriotism  is  a  man-made  feel 
ing.  You  are  going  to  stay  with  me.  I  am 
going  now  to  tell  Cadillac." 

But  I  could  feel  her  tremble.  "If  you  say 
more,  I  must  leave  you.  You  cannot  alter  my 
mind.  What  has  come  must  come.  Can  we  not 
sit  together  in  silence  till  I  go  ?  " 


376  MONTLIVET 

And  so  I  sat  beside  her.  'You  are  a  strange 
woman,"  I  said  at  length. 

She  looked  at  me  as  if  to  plead  her  own  cause. 
"Strange  events  have  made  me.  I  cannot  mar 
vel  if  you  are  bitter,  for  I  have  brought  you  un- 
happiness.  Yet  it  was  in  this  room  that  I  asked 
you  to  remember  that  I  went  with  you  against  my 
will." 

"I  remember." 

"And  will  you  remember  what  —  what  I  have 
seen  ?  Is  it  strange  that  I  understand ;  that  I 
know  we  must  part?" 

I  shook  my  head.  "It  is  your  cousin's  mind 
impressed  on  yours  that  tells  you  that  we  must 
part,  —  that  and  your  unfathomable  spirit,  —  the 
spirit  that  carried  you  in  man's  dress  through 
those  weeks  as  a  captive.  It  is  that  same  spirit 
that  will  bring  you  back  to  me  some  day." 

"Monsieur!" 

"That  will  bring  you  back." 

"Monsieur,  no.     I  cannot  change  myself." 

"Would  I  have  you  change?  Mary,  Mary! 
I  took  you  as  a  boy  with  me  to  the  wilderness  be 
cause  you  had  an  unbreakable  will  and  a  fanatic's 
courage.  Yet  this  is  not  the  end.  It  is  not  the 
end." 

She  did  not  answer,  and  again  she  laid  her  head 
on  the  table.  We  had  but  a  few  minutes  left 
now.  I  saw  her  look  up  at  me  twice  before  I 


CHILDREN  OF  OPPORTUNITY    377 

heard  her  whisper,  "  Monsieur,  you  said  that  I 
loved  you.  But  you  never  said  that  you"  — 

"Would  it  change  your  decision  if  I  said  it 
now?" 

"No,  no!     It  could  not." 

I  slipped  to  my  knees  and  laid  my  lips  on  her 
clasped  hands.  'You  are  part  of  me.  You  go 
with  me  whether  you  will  or  no.  You  are  in  the 
red  sunsets  that  we  saw  together,  and  in  the 
white  dawns  when  we  ate  our  meal  and  meat  side 
by  side.  You  are  fettered  to  me.  I  cannot  rid 
myself  of  your  presence  for  a  moment.  I  shall 
tell  you  more  of  this  when  you  come  to  me  again." 

She  bent  to  me  with  the  color  driven  from  her 
lips.  "Don't!  Don't!  We  will  learn  to  forget. 
We  are  both  rulers  of  our  wills.  We  will  learn  to 
forget.  Wait-  Are  they  calling  me ?" 

We  listened.  Cadillac  was  at  the  door.  We 
both  rose. 

"In  a  moment,"  I  called  to  him.  Then  I 
turned.  "  Whatever  happens,  keep  to  the  east 
ward.  Don't  let  your  Indians  turn.  Refuse,  and 
make  Starling  refuse,  to  listen  to  any  change  of 
plan." 

She  was  trembling.  She  seemed  not  to  hear 
me,  and  I  said  the  words  again.  'You  must 
promise.  You  are  not  to  go  to  the  west." 

And  then  she  put  out  her  hands  to  me.  'Yes, 
yes,  I  understand.  I  promise.  I  shall  not  go 


378  MONTLIVET 

west.  But,  monsieur,  do  not  —  do  not  go  with 
me  to  the  shore.  Let  me  go  alone.  Let  us  part 
here." 

I  could  have  envied  her  the  power  to  tremble. 
I  felt  like  stone.  I  had  but  one  arm,  but  I  drew 
her  to  me  till  I  felt  her  heart  on  mine.  "This  is 
not  the  end.  This  is  not  the  end.  But  till  you 
come  to  me  again"  —  And  I  would  have  laid 
my  lips  on  hers. 

But  she  was  out  of  my  grasp.  "  We  —  we  — 
It  was  a  compact.  If  we  —  If  we  did  that,  we 
could  not  part.  Good-by,  monsieur.  I  beg 
you  not  to  go  with  me.  God  be  with  you.  God 
be  with  you,  monsieur." 

I  followed  to  the  door  and  held  to  its  casing  as 
I  looked  after  her.  She  had  met  Cadillac,  and 
was  walking  with  him.  She,  whom  I  had  always 
seen  erect,  was  leaning  on  his  arm. 


I   FOLLOW   MY   PATH 

A  FULL  hour  later  I  went  to  Cadillac.  "  I  am  leav 
ing,"  I  said.  "I  am  taking  Pierre.  The  Ottawa 
girl,  his  wife,  says  she  is  going  with  us.  It  is  foolish, 
— but  Pierre,  wishes  it.  He  is  dough  in  her  hands." 

Cadillac  shook  my  well  shoulder.  "  Go  to  bed 
for  a  day.  You  are  ash  color." 

"  No,  I  must  be  on  my  way.  The  time  is  short 
enough  as  it  is.  Have  the  Senecas  gone  ?  " 

"No,  it  will  be  some  hours  before  they  are 
ready.  If  you  start  now,  you  will  be  enough  in 
advance  to  keep  out  of  sight." 

I  could  not  forbear  a  shrug.  "Three  hours' 
start  to  collect  an  army!  Well,  it  shall  serve. 
And  you  follow  to-morrow  ?  " 

Cadillac  gave  a  trumpeting  laugh.  :<  Yes,  to 
morrow.  I  shall  take  a  hundred  men  and  leave 
a  hundred  here  for  guard.  I  have  made  arrange 
ments.  Longuant  leads  the  Ottawas,  and  old 
Kondiaronk  the  loyal  Hurons.  Where  shall  we 
meet  you  ?  " 

"I  cannot  tell.  Stop  at  the  Pottawatamie  Is 
lands  and  Onanguisse  will  know.  Keep  watch 
of  Pemaou.  He  will  make  trouble  if  he  can." 


380  MONTLIVET 

Cadillac  looked  at  the  horizon.  "Montlivet, 
I  have  bad  news.  Pemaou  has  gone." 

"Gone!     Where?" 

"I  don't  know.  To  the  Seneca  camp,  prob 
ably.  His  canoes  have  just  left." 

I  tapped  the  ground.  I  was  tired  and  angry. 
'You  should  have  prevented  such  a  possibility," 
I  let  myself  say. 

But  he  kept  his  temper.  "  What  could  I  have 
done?"  he  asked  quietly.  "I  have  no  authority 
in  my  garrison." 

I  regretted  my  outburst.  "You  could  not 
have  done  anything,"  I  hastened.  "And  if 
Pemaou  has  indeed  gone  to  the  Senecas,  it  is 
good  news  for  me.  I  am  impatient  for  a  meet 
ing  with  him  that  I  did  not  dare  have  here  for 
fear  of  entangling  myself  and  losing  time.  I 
shall  hope  for  an  encounter  in  the  west.  And 
now  I  am  away,  monsieur." 

I  wished  to  leave  with  as  little  stir  as  possible, 
so  Pierre  took  the  canoe  around  the  point,  and 
I  joined  him  there.  To  reach  the  rendezvous  I 
walked  through  the  old  maize  field  where  I  had 
met  the  English  captive.  It  had  been  moonlight 
then.  Now  it  was  hot  noon,  and  the  waves  of 
light  made  me  faint.  I  had  forgotten  breakfast. 
I  cursed  myself  at  the  omission,  for  I  needed 
strength. 

But   I  was  not  to  leave    quite   unattended. 


I  FOLLOW  MY  PATH  381 

When  I  reached  the  canoe,  I  found  Father  Car- 
heil  talking  to  Singing  Arrow.  I  was  glad  to  see 
him.  There  was  something  that  propped  my 
pride  and  courage  in  his  irritable,  tender  greeting. 

He  pressed  a  vial  into  my  hands.  "It  is  con 
fection  of  Jacinth.  It  has  great  virtue.  Take  it 
with  you,  my  son." 

I  knelt.  "I  would  rather  take  your  blessing, 
father." 

He  gave  it  to  me,  and  his  old  hands  trembled. 
"  Come  back,  my  son.  Come  back  safely.  You 
will  return  this  way?" 

I  looked  off  at  the  blue,  beckoning  west.  "I 
do  not  know,  father.  I  go  without  ties  or  re 
sponsibilities.  I  am  not  sure  where  I  shall  end. 
I  doubt  that  I  return  this  way. " 

"But  where,  my  son ?     Where  do  you  go ?" 

I  pointed,  and  his  mystic  glance  followed  my 
hand.  "  Out  there  in  the  blue,  father,  —  some 
where.  I  don't  know  where.  It  has  beckoned 
you  thus  far;  can  you  resist  its  cry  to  you  to 
come  farther  and  force  its  secrets  from  it?" 

He  clutched  his  rosary,  and  I  knew  I  had 
touched  one  of  his  temptations.  He  loved  the 
wilderness  as  I  have  never  seen  it  loved.  Even 
his  fellow  priests  and  the  few  soldiers  and  traders 
crowded  him.  He  wanted  the  land  alone,  — 
alone  with  his  Indians.  He  would  not  look  at 
the  blue  track. 


382  MONTLIVET 

"It  is  the  path  of  ambition,  and  it  is  strewn 
with  wrecks.  Come  back  to  us  here,  my  son." 

But  I  would  not  look  away  from  the  west. 
"Some  day  I  shall  come  back.  Not  now. 
Father,  I  married  Ambition.  She  lives  in  the 
wilderness.  I  think  I  shall  abide  with  her  the 
next  year." 

He  frowned  at  me.  "  Where  has  Madame  de 
Month  vet  gone?" 

"  She  has  started  for  her  home  in  England,  fa 
ther." 

He  tapped  his  teeth  with  his  forefinger. 
"You  sent  a  curious  guard  with  her.  Take  the 
advice  of  an  old  man  who  has  lived  among  In 
dians.  It  is  usually  unwise  to  mix  tribes." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"You  should  have  sent  a  guard  of  Ottawas 
with  your  wife  and  Starling." 

"They  were  all  Ottawas." 

"No,  they  were  more  than  half  Hurons.  I 
counted." 

I  jammed  my  teeth  together  and  tried  to 
think.  I  had  just  said  that  the  west  was  calling 
me,  that  I  was  untrammeled.  Untrammeled! 
Why,  I  was  enmeshed,  choked  by  conflicting  du 
ties.  I  put  my  head  back,  and  breathed  hard. 

"Father,  are  you  sure?  Cadillac  himself  saw 
to  it  that  they  were  all  Ottawas." 

The  priest  stepped  forward  and! wiped  his  hand- 


I  FOLLOW  MY  PATH  383 

kerchief  across  my  face.  It  was  wet.  "  My  son, 
take  this  more  calmly.  Cadillac  does  not  know 
one  Indian  from  another.  Does  this  mean 
harm?" 

I  shook  the  sweat  from  my  fingers.  "  I  do  not 
know  what  it  means.  But  I  must  go  west.  I 
must.  Hundreds  of  men  depend  on  me.  Fa 
ther  Carheil?" 

'Yes,  my  son." 

"I  bound  you  once  on  this  very  spot.  May 
I  bind  you  again  ?" 

"  With  promises  ?  " 

;' Yes.  Will  you  see  Cadillac  at  once,  tell  him 
what  you  know,  and  have  a  company  of  Ottawas 
sent  in  pursuit  of  Lord  Starling  ?  Will  you  your 
self  see  that  it  is  rightly  done  ?" 

His  foot  drummed  a  tattoo.  "  I  ask  no  favors 
of  the  commandant." 

"Father!" 

"Oh  yes,  I"  — 

"Then  go  at  once,  I  beg  you.     Hasten." 

He  shook  his  head  at  me,  but  he  turned  and 
ran.  I  watched  him  a  moment,  then  I  stepped 
in  the  canoe. 

"  I  will  take  a  paddle, "  I  told  Pierre.  "  I  can 
do  something  with  my  left  hand.  Singing  Arrow 
must  take  one,  too. " 

It  had  come  to  me  before  in  my  life  to  be  com 
pelled  to  force  the  apparently  impossible  out  of 


384  MONTLIVET 

opportunity.  But  never  had  I  asked  myself  to 
attempt  such  a  task  as  this.  I  had  only  one  day 
the  start  of  Cadillac,  and  in  that  time  I  must 
collect  an  army.  But  if  success  were  within  hu 
man  reach  I  was  well  armored  to  secure  it,  for  I 
carried  a  desperate  heart. 

So  if  I  say  we  went  swiftly,  it  conveys  no  mean 
ing  of  what  we  really  accomplished.  We  paddled 
as  long  as  our  arms  would  obey  us,  slept  spar 
ingly,  and  paddled  again.  Singing  Arrow  was 
worth  two  men.  She  paddled  for  us,  cooked  for 
us,  and  packed  the  bales  when  our  hands  blun 
dered  with  weariness.  She  was  tireless. 

And  watching  her  I  saw  something  lived  before 
me  day  by  day  that  I  had  tried  to  forget  was 
in  the  world.  There  was  love  between  this  In 
dian  woman  and  my  peasant  Pierre.  They  had 
found  the  real  love,  the  love  that  is  wine  and 
meat.  It  was  very  strange.  Pierre  was  quiet, 
and  he  was  wont  to  be  boisterous,  but  he  looked 
into  the  girl 's  eyes,  and  I  saw  that  both  of  them 
forgot  that  the  hours  of  work  were  long.  I  have 
not  seen  this  miracle  many  times,  though  I  have 
seen  many  marriages.  What  had  Pierre  done 
that  he  should  find  it  ? 

Well,  the  west  called  me.  And  if  a  man  whines 
under  his  luck,  that  proves  that  he  deserves  all 
that  has  happened. 

And  so  we  reached  the  Pottawatamie  Islands. 


I  FOLLOW  MY  PATH  385 

We  were  so  cramped  and  exhausted  that  we 
staggered  as  we  tried  to  walk  from  the  canoe, 
yet  we  remained  at  the  islands  but  an  hour. 
And  in  that  hour  I  talked  to  Onanguisse  and 
the  old  men,  and  perfected  our  plans.  When  we 
embarked  again  we  had  two  large  canoes  with 
strong-armed  Pottawatamies  at  the  paddles.  We 
were  on  our  way  to  the  Malhominis,  and  I  slept 
most  of  the  distance,  for  nature  was  in  revolt. 
Yet  through  all  my  heavy  slumber  droned  the 
voice  of  Onanguisse,  and  always  he  repeated 
what  he  had  said  when  we  parted. 

"I  called  her  the  turtle  dove.  But  at  heart 
she  was  an  eagle.  Did  you  ask  her  to  peck  and 
twitter  like  a  tame  robin  ?  I  could  have  told  you 
that  she  would  fly  away. " 

We  reached  the  mouth  of  the  Wild  Rice  River 
at  evening,  and  pushed  up  through  the  reeds  in 
the  darkness.  I  knew  if  Pemaou  was  lying  in 
ambush  for  me  this  would  be  the  place  for  him. 
But  we  reached  the  village  safely,  so  I  said  to  my 
self  that  the  Huron  had  grown  slow-witted. 

In  other  times,  in  times  before  the  broth  of  life 
had  lost  its  salt,  I  should  have  enjoyed  that  mo 
ment  of  entry  into  the  Malhominis  camp.  The 
cry  that  met  me  was  of  relief  and  welcome,  but 
I  ignored  all  greetings  till  I  had  pushed  my  way 
to  the  pole  where  the  dried  band  of  rushes  still 
hung.  I  tore  it  away,  and  hung  a  silver  chain 


386  MONTLIVET 

in  its  place.  "Brother!"  I  said  to  Outchipouac, 
and  he  gave  me  his  calumet  in  answer. 

And  then  I  had  ado  to  compel  a  hearing.  The 
Malhominis  repented  their  injustice,  and  would 
have  overpowered  me  with  rejoicings  and  flattery, 
but  I  made  them  understand  at  last  that  I  had 
but  two  hours  to  spend  with  them,  and  they  qui 
eted  like  children  before  a  tutor.  My  first  ques 
tion  was  for  news  of  Labarthe  and  Leclerc,  but 
I  learned  nothing.  Indeed,  the  Malhominis  could 
tell  me  nothing  of  the  Seneca  camp  beyond  the 
fact  that  it  was  still  there.  They  had  cowered  in 
their  village  dreading  a  Seneca  attack,  and  they 
were  feverishly  anxious  for  concerted  action. 
They  suggested  that  I  save  time  by  sending  mes 
sengers  to  the  Chippewas  and  Winnebagoes, 
while  I  went  myself  to  the  Sac  camp. 

This  was  good  advice  and  I  adopted  it.  I 
drew  maps  on  bark,  gave  the  messengers  my 
watchword,  and  instructed  them  what  to  say. 
The  rendezvous  I  had  selected  was  easy  to  find. 
Some  few  miles  south  of  the  Seneca  camp  a  small 
river  debouched  into  La  Baye  des  Puants.  We 
would  meet  there.  Cadillac  and  the  Pottawata- 
mies  would  come  together  from  the  north;  the 
Malhominis,  the  Winnebagoes,  and  the  Chippe 
was  would  come  separately,  and  I  would  lead  the 
Sacs  under  my  command.  All  was  agreed  upon, 
and  I  saw  the  messengers  dispatched.  Then  I 


I  FOLLOW  MY  PATH  387 

took  a  canoe  and  eight  men,  and  started  on  my 
own  journey.  It  was  then  past  midnight. 

The  eight  men  worked  well.  By  sunrise  I  was 
fighting  the  dogs  and  the  stench  in  the  Sacs  vil 
lage,  and  by  eleven  the  same  morning  I  was  on 
my  way  again  with  eighty  braves  following.  The 
Sacs  were  such  clumsy  people  in  canoes  that  I  did 
not  dare  trust  them  on  the  water,  so  we  arranged 
to  make  a  detour  to  the  west  and  reach  the  ren 
dezvous  by  land. 

It  was  a  terrible  journey.  We  had  to  make  on 
foot  nearly  double  the  distance  that  the  other 
tribes  would  make  by  canoe,  so  we  gave  ourselves 
no  rest.  The  trail  led  by  morass  and  fallen  timber, 
and  it  was  the  season  of  stinging  gnats  and  breath 
less  days.  The  Sacs  were  always  filthy  in  camp 
or  journeying,  and  I  turned  coward  at  the  food 
I  was  obliged  to  eat.  But  I  did  not  dare  leave 
them  and  trust  them  to  come  alone.  They  were 
a  fierce,  sullen  people,  unstable  as  hyenas,  but 
they  were  terrible  in  war.  I  had  won  some  power 
over  them,  and  they  followed  me  with  the  eyes 
of  snarling  dogs.  But  they  would  not  have  gone 
a  mile  without  my  hand  to  beckon. 

So  through  filth  and  gnats,  heat,  toil,  and  lack 
of  food,  I  followed  Ambition. 


CHAPTER   XXX 

THE   MEANING   OF   CONQUEST 

WHEN  I  stumbled  along  the  bank  of  the  little 
stream  that  marked  our  rendezvous,  I  was  mud- 
splashed,  torn,  and  insect-poisoned,  and  I  led  a 
brutish  set  of  ruffians.  Yet  I  heard  a  muffled 
cheer  roar  out  as  I  came  into  view.  The  Winne- 
bagoes  were  in  camp  and  in  waiting. 

I  forgot  ache  and  weariness.  The  Winneba- 
goes  were  fifty  in  all,  picked  men,  and  I  looked 
them  over  and  exulted.  Erect  and  clean-limbed, 
they  were  as  dignified  and  wonderful  as  a  row  of 
fir  trees,  and  physically  I  felt  a  sorry  object  be 
side  them.  Yet  they  hailed  me  as  leader,  and 
placing  me  on  a  robe  of  deerskins  carried  me 
into  camp.  They  smoked  the  pipe  of  fealty  with 
me,  and  when  I  slept  that  night  I  knew  that  my 
dream  castles  of  the  last  two  years  were  at  last 
shaping  into  something  I  could  touch  and  handle. 
Their  glitter  was  giving  way  to  masonry. 

The  morning  brought  the  Malhominis,  the 
noon  the  Chippewas.  I  hoped  for  the  French 
and  the  Pottawatamies  by  night. 

But  the  night  did  not  bring  them,  nor  the  next 
morning,  nor  the  next  day,  nor  yet  the  day  follow 
ing. 


THE  MEANING  OF  CONQUEST  389 

And  in  the  waiting  days  I  lived  in  four  camps 
of  savages,  and  it  was  my  duty  to  cover  them  with 
the  robe  of  peace. 

The  wolf-eyed  Sacs,  the  stately  Winnebagoes, 
the  Chippewas,  and  Malhominis,  —  they  sat  like 
gamecocks,  quiet,  but  alert  for  a  ruffle  of  one 
another's  plumage.  In  council  they  were  men; 
in  idleness,  children.  When  I  was  with  them,  they 
talked  of  war  and  spoke  like  senators.  When  I 
turned  my  back  they  gambled,  lied,  bragged,  and 
stole.  I  needed  four  bodies  and  uncounted  minds. 

And  I  saw  how  my  union  was  composed.  The 
tribes  would  unite  and  destroy  the  Senecas,  — 
that  done,  it  was  probable  they  would  find  the 
game  merry,  and  fall  upon  one  another. 

With  every  hour  of  delay  they  grew  harder  to 
control.  There  was  jealousy  between  the  war 
chiefs.  I  stepped  on  thin  ice  in  my  walks  from 
lodge  to  lodge. 

But  the  third  day  brought  Cadillac.  We  saw 
the  blur  of  his  canoes  far  to  the  north,  and  when 
they  came  within  earshot  we  were  ranged  to  re 
ceive  them. 

A  man  should  know  pride  in  his  achievement, 
—  else  why  is  striving  given  him  ?  I  looked 
over  my  warriors,  rank  on  rank.  Fierce-eyed, 
muscled  like  panthers,  they  were  terrible  engines 
of  war.  And  I  controlled  them!  I  felt  the  lift 
of  the  heart  that  strengthens  a  man's  will.  That 


390  MONTLIVET 

is  something  rarer  than  pride ;  a  flitting  vision  of 
the  unsounded  depths  of  human  power. 

And  the  canoes  that  approached  made  a 
strange  pageant.  I  could  not  in  a  moment  rid 
myself  of  a  rooted  custom;  I  wished  the  wo 
man  were  there  to  see.  French  and  Indians  sat 
side  by  side,  so  that  blankets  rubbed  uniforms. 
They  were  packed  in  close  bending  ranks,  their 
bodies  crouching  to  the  paddles,  their  eyes  upon 
the  shore.  There  were  ferret-sharp  black  eyes 
and  peasant-dull  blue  ones,  but  all  were  glittering. 
And  the  faces,  bronze  or  white,  took  on  the  same 
look,  —  they  were  strained,  arid  of  all  expression 
but  the  fever  for  war.  A  slow  tingle  crawled 
over  me,  and  I  saw  the  crowd  sway.  A  cautious, 
muffled  cry  broke  from  the  shore  and  was  an 
swered  from  the  canoes.  It  was  a  hoarse  note, 
for  the  lust  for  blood  crowds  the  throat  full. 

I  looked  to  see  Cadillac  riding  a  surge  of  tri 
umph,  but  when  our  hands  met  I  was  chilled. 
He  showed  no  gladness.  His  purple  face  had 
lines,  and  he  looked  hot  and  jaded.  Had  his 
men  failed  him  ?  No,  I  reviewed  them.  French, 
Hurons,  and  Ottawas,  they  made  a  goodly  show 
ing.  Onanguisse  was  there,  and  his  Pottawa- 
tamies,  oiled,  feathered,  and  paint-decked,  were 
beautiful  as  catamounts.  All  was  well.  Cadil 
lac  was  not  in  his  first  youth,  and  had  abused 
himself.  His  look  meant  fatigue. 


THE  MEANING  OF  CONQUEST  391 

"Ottawas,  Hurons,  Pottawatamies,  Malhomi- 
nis,  Chippewas,  Sacs,  Winnebagoes. "  I  counted 
them  off  to  him.  "Monsieur  de  la  Mothe-Ca- 
dillac,  it  is  a  sight  worthy  your  eyes.  New  France 
has  not  seen  such  a  gathering  since  the  day  when 
Saint  Lusson-planted  our  standard  at  the  straits 
and  fourteen  tribes  looked  on." 

He  nodded  heavily.  "The  Senecas  are  still 
in  camp?" 

"Yes,  monsieur.     We  can  attack  to-night." 

But  he  turned  away.  "  Montlivet,  your  wife  is 
in  the  Seneca  camp. " 

I  looked  at  him  coldly,  I  think,  though  I  re 
member  that  I  clutched  his  shoulder. 

"  Monsieur,  you  mistake.    My  wife  went  east." 

He  tried  to  draw  me  aside,  but  I  resisted  him 
stolidly.  I  eyed  him  searchingly,  angrily,  but  he 
could  not  look  at  me.  "  Listen,"  he  begged,  and 
he  spoke  very  slowly  and  tapped  my  arm.  Yet 
I  was  understanding  him  perfectly.  "Listen, 
Montlivet,  there  is  no  mistake.  When  Father 
Carheil  told  me  that  there  were  Hurons  in  Star 
ling's  escort  I  sent  Ottawas  in  pursuit.  I  have 
heard  from  them.  Starling's  party  went  east 
till  they  were  out  of  sight  of  the  garrison.  Then 
they  turned  west  and  joined  Pemaou.  It  was  by 
Starling's  direction.  The  Ottawas  would  have 
objected,  for  I  had  ordered  them  to  travel  east, 
but  they  were  overpowered.  It  is  supposed,  since 


392  MONTLIVET 

they  traveled  in  this  direction,  that  they  went  to 
the  Seneca  camp.  But  that  may  not  be  true. " 

"It  is  undoubtedly  true,"  I  said. 

Cadillac  pushed  me  out  of  earshot  of  the  men. 
"Montlivet,  you  cannot  understand.  Listen  to 
me." 

I  tried  to  shake  him  away.  "There  is  no 
thing  more  that  you  can  say.  Monsieur,  unhand 
me.  My  wife  left  with  Starling.  She  is  un 
doubtedly  in  the  Seneca  camp.  Pemaou  and 
Starling  are  in  league,  and  they  go  to  the  Senecas 
because  they  hope  to  make  terms  on  behalf  of 
the  English  with  the  western  tribes.  I  under 
stand." 

Cadillac  looked  at  me  fully,  and  I  realized 
dully  that  his  face  grew  white  as  he  examined 
mine.  "Go  away.  Go  at  once,"  he  urged. 
"  Leave  things  here  to  me. " 

I  nodded  and  stumbled  away.  Stretched  tar 
paulins  made  my  tent,  and  I  crawled  under  them, 
drew  down  the  folds,  and  was  alone.  The  noise 
of  the  camp  muttered  around  me  like  a  wind. 

And  then  I  lay  alone  with  myself  and  my  be 
liefs,  and  fought  to  know  where  my  feet  were  set. 
There  was  tempest  without  my  tent,  but  not 
within.  In  the  valleys  where  I  struggled  there 
was  great  quiet.  And  at  last  I  found  certainty. 

In  an  hour  I  went  to  find  Cadillac.  He  would 
not  let  me  speak. 


THE  MEANING  OF  CONQUEST  393 

"  Montlivet,  we  will  stop  this  attack  —  if  we 
can  hold  the  Indians." 

"It  is  not  possible  to  hold  the  Indians.  They 
are  blood  drunk.  We  should  have  general  mas 
sacre." 

"  Then  you  must  leave.  You  can  go  with  Onan- 
guisse.  He  says  that  if  his  adopted  daughter  is 
with  the  Senecas  he  will  not  join  in  the  attack." 

"  No,  I  shall  not  go  with  him.  I  shall  lead  the 
allied  force  of  Indians,  monsieur." 

Cadillac  looked  me  over.  I  saw,  with  my  own 
face  cold,  that  his  was  not  steady. 

"No  victory  is  worth  that,"  I  heard  him  say, 
and  I  listened  as  if  he  spoke  of  another's  sorrow. 
"It  is  not  necessary,  Montlivet." 

"It  is  absolutely  necessary.  The  war  chiefs 
are  jealous.  Without  a  leader  they  will  fall  on 
one  another  and  we  shall  have  sickening  mas 
sacre.  You  cannot  lead  them,  for  you  do  not 
speak  their  language." 

"But  even  granting  that"  — 

I  touched  his  sleeve.  "  Monsieur,  I  have  been 
alone.  I  have  thought  it  out.  There  is  no  es 
cape.  I  do  not  know  why  life  should  give  a  man 
such  a  thing  to  do,  but  it  is  here.  I  have  told 
the  Indians  that  I  represented  the  king;  that  I 
stood  for  government,  protection.  I  have  called 
them  here  in  the  name  of  law.  It  is  a  new  word 
to  them,  and  I  have  forced  its  meaning  into  their 


394  MONTLIVET 

minds.  And  so  they  trust  me.  They  trust  me  in 
the  name  of  this  law  I  talk  about.  If  I  desert 
them  now,  they  will  lapse  into  savagery  of  the 
worst  kind.  We  shall  have  anarchy.  Blood  will 
flow  for  years.  No  Frenchman's  life  will  be  safe. 
I  have  the  best  men  of  six  tribes  here,  and  they 
will  think  themselves  deceived  and  pay  us  in  red 
coin.  I  have  been  alone.  I  have  thought  it  out. 
I  cannot  do  wholesale  murder  to  save  one  life, 
even  if  it  is  my  wife  whose  life  is  to  be  forfeit. 
We  must  go  on." 

Cadillac  put  out  his  hand  and  caught  my  shoul 
der.  I  had  reeled  against  him  as  I  spoke.  He 
removed  his  hat. 

"I  await  your  plans,  Monsieur  de  Montlivet. 
My  troops  are  ready." 

When  I  found  Onanguisse  he  examined  me 
from  under  drooping  lids.  Despite  his  age,  he 
was  wont  to  hold  his  head  like  a  deer,  but  now 
his  look  was  on  the  ground.  He  handed  me  a 
richly  feathered  bow  and  a  sheaf  of  arrows. 

"I  cannot  use  them,"  he  said.  "I  called  her 
daughter.  I  gave  her  a  robe  in  token.  It  is  only 
a  porcupine  who  turns  against  his  own.  A  chief 
remembers." 

I  pressed  the  bow  back.  "Take  it,  and  save 
her.  I  do  not  know  how.  You  are  an  old  man 
in  knowledge,  I  am  a  child.  I  trust  to  you  to 
bring  her  to  me." 


THE  MEANING  OF  CONQUEST  395 

He  looked  up  at  that,  and  shook  his  head  in  sor 
row  when  he  saw  nay  face.  But  he  would  not  take 
his  bow.  "One  man  cannot  save  her,"  he  said, 
and  he  bowed  his  head  again  and  went  away. 

I  did  not  speak.  I  saw  him  summon  his  war 
riors  and  reembark.  In  the  general  tumult  his 
leaving  made  little  stir.  The  Pottawatamies 
were  arrogant,  called  themselves  "lords,"  and  ex 
acted  tribute  of  the  other  tribes  of  La  Baye.  Yet 
they  accomplished  this  more  by  diplomacy  than 
warfare.  I  knew  that  Onanguisse's  desertion  was 
well  in  tune  with  his  reputation  and  would  not 
be  combated. 

I  found  Pierre,  and  told  him  about  the  woman. 
'You  are  to  save  her.  You  are  to  get  her  away. 
It  is  for  you  to  do.  You  are  to  think  nothing 
else,  work  for  nothing  else.  You  can  do  it.  I 
depend  on  you  to  do  it.  You  are  never  to  come 
to  me  again  if  you  fail." 

But  he,  too,  looked  away.  "  It  cannot  be  done. 
The  Indians  will  kill  her."  He  turned  his  head 
from  me,  and  his  voice  was  thick  and  grating. 

I  raged  at  him.  "  I  shall  give  the  Indians  or 
ders  to  spare  all  women,"  I  declared. 

He  nodded  his  great  head.  "I  will  help  the 
master.  I  will  do  all  I  can."  He  humored  me  as 
one  hushes  an  ailing  child,  but  I  saw  the  caution 
and  blankness  in  his  look.  As  soon  as  he  could 
he  slipped  out  of  my  sight. 


396  MONTLIVET 

And  then  I  went  to  work.  If  I  staggered  as  I 
made  my  stumbling,  blinded  way  from  war  chief 
to  war  chief,  there  was  none  to  know,  for  blood 
lust  had  closed  eyes  and  ears.  Yet,  though  my 
muscles  failed,  my  brain  was  clear. 

The  kettle-drums  snarled  and  buzzed  like  lazy 
hornets.  They  sounded  spiteful  rather  than 
wicked,  but  I  knew  what  their  droning  stood  for, 
and  my  body  grew  cold.  In  the  Ottawa  camp 
the  drummers  sat  beside  a  post  in  the  centre  of  a 
great  circle  of  warriors,  and  Longuant  stood  with 
them  in  the  ring  singing  a  war  chant.  His  body 
was  painted  green  and  he  was  hung  with  chains 
of  wampum.  I  halted.  He  was  one  of  the 
sanest,  the  most  admirable,  of  the  war  chiefs, 
and  I  listened  to  him.  He  kept  his  eyes  fixed 
on  the  westering  sun,  and  yelped  his  recitation 
in  a  sharp,  barking  voice.  I  heard  of  children 
dashed  to  death  against  trees;  of  men  disem 
boweled  and  left  to  the  mercy  of  dogs  and  flies. 
After  the  recitation  of  each  exploit,  he  struck  his 
hatchet  against  the  post,  and  the  clamor  of  the 
drums  doubled. 

I  found  myself  sick  as  well  as  faint.  I  beat  the 
air  with  my  clenched  fist,  and  Cadillac  saw  me, 
and  begged  me  to  go  away  alone  till  I  had  myself 
in  hand.  But  I  pushed  by  him. 

"My  mind  is  clear,"  I  said,  and  I  spoke  as 
coldly  as  a  machine.  "  Clearer  than  yours,  for  I 


THE  MEANING  OF  CONQUEST  397 

see  this  as  it  is.  Let  me  go.  I  have  undertaken 
this  and  I  shall  go  through." 

We  were  ready  to  march  an  hour  before  sunset. 
The  fifty  Sacs  formed  the  vanguard,  and  I  was 
with  them.  The  Winnebagoes  followed,  then  the 
French  troops.  The  remaining  tribes,  and  the 
Indians  who  carried  the  stores,  brought  up  the 
rear.  Our  intention  was  to  march  as  quietly 
as  possible  while  daylight  lasted,  then  work  our 
way  by  dark  and  starlight  till  we  were  near  the 
Seneca  camp.  We  would  then  drop  on  the 
ground,  and  lie  in  ambush  till  it  grew  light 
enough  to  attack.  We  hoped  to  surprise  the 
camp.  They  had  fortified  themselves,  but  ap 
parently  had  no  scouts  at  work,  and  from  all  we 
could  learn  they  were  feasting  and  drinking  in 
Babylonish  security,  celebrating  the  return  of 
their  messengers  from  Michillimackinac.  With 
that  exploit  in  mind  it  was  small  wonder  that 
they  felt  arrogant  and  unassailable.  Now  was 
indeed  our  time. 

Our  ranks  were  formed,  and  I  looked  them 
over  man  by  man.  Each  savage  carried  a  bag 
with  ten  pounds  of  maize  flour,  a  light  covering, 
a  bow  and  arrows,  or  a  fusee.  The  Winneba 
goes  I  had  put  well  in  the  lead,  for  they  were  pro 
tected  by  great  shields  of  dried  buffalo  skin.  I 
tried  one  of  the  skin  shields  and  found  it  like 
iron.  It  would  turn  a  hatchet. 


398  MONTLIVET 

Cadillac's  bugler  sounded  the  call  and  we 
started.  The  late  sun  was  unclouded  and  warm, 
and  the  smell  of  paint  and  breath  and  unwashed 
bodies  filled  my  lungs.  The  stench  was  hot  and 
brutish  in  my  nostrils,  and  it  was  the  smell  of  war. 

So  long  as  daylight  lasted  we  moved  with  some 
regularity  in  spite  of  the  rough  ground.  Then, 
knowing  we  were  drawing  nearer  the  Senecas, 
we  began  to  slip  from  tree  to  tree.  The  Indians 
did  this  like  phantoms,  and  the  French  troops 
imitated.  Three  hundred  men  went  through  the 
forest,  and  sometimes  a  twig  cracked.  There 
was  no  other  sound.  We  went  for  some  time. 
We  heard  owls  hoot  around  us,  and  knew  they 
might  be  watch  cries.  Still  we  went  on.  We 
went  till  I  felt  the  ground  rise  steadily  under  my 
groping  feet.  The  Seneca  stronghold  was  on  an 
eminence.  I  gave  the  signal  to  drop  where  we 
were  and  wait  for  day. 

We  melted  into  the  shadows,  and  lay  rigid 
while  the  stars  looked  down.  The  savage  next 
me  slept.  His  war  club  lay  by  his  side  and  I  felt 
of  it  in  the  dark.  It  was  made  of  a  deer's  horn, 
shaped  like  a  cutlass;  it  had  a  large  ball  at  the 
end.  The  ball  was  heavy  and  jagged,  and 
would  crush  a  skull. 

There  were  hundreds  of  such  clubs.  In  a  few 
hours  they  would  be  in  use.  And  the  woman 
was  in  camp. 


THE  MEANING  OF  CONQUEST  399 

My  right  arm  was  free  from  the  sling  and  I 
dug  my  hands  together.  I  could  feel  the  blood 
running  in  my  palms,  and  I  checked  myself.  If 
I  injured  my  hands  how  could  I  save  the  woman  ? 

But  nothing  could  save  the  woman. 

I  had  given  commands  to  spare  all  whites  and 
to  torture  no  one.  But  Pierre  was  right.  I  was 
a  fool  to  have  pretended,  even  to  myself,  that  I 
thought  the  savages  listened. 

A  fool  can  do  harm  enough,  but  a  cowardly, 
soft-hearted  man  is  the  most  dangerous  of 
knaves.  I  might  have  killed  Pemaou  when  I 
threw  the  spear  at  him;  I  might  have  killed  him 
the  night  before  my  wedding  in  the  Pottawatamie 
camp.  I  had  withheld  my  hand  because  it  was 
disagreeable  to  me  to  kill.  And  now  the  woman's 
life  was  to  pay  the  forfeit  of  my  lax  softness.  I 
rolled  in  my  agony,  and  bit  the  ground  till  my 
mouth  was  full  of  leaf  mould. 

A  planet  swung  from  one  tree-top  to  the  next. 
What  lay  behind  it  ?  She  would  know  soon.  But 
I  could  not  follow  her  where  she  was  going.  I 
should  live.  I  knew  that.  When  Death  is  courted 
he  will  not  strike.  I  had  seen  that  in  battle. 

That  first  morning  when  she  had  come  to  me 
with  the  sunrise,  —  when  she  had  drifted  to  me, 
bound  and  singing,  —  I  had  called  to  her  to  have 
no  fear,  that  no  harm  should  come  to  her.  And 
she  had  trusted  me. 


400  MONTLIVET 

She  had  a  little  hollow  in  her  brown  throat 
where  I  had  watched  the  breath  flutter.  I  had 
never  touched  it. 

I  could  thank  God  for  her,  for  one  thing.  She 
had  refused  my  kiss. 

I  saw  the  planet  again,  tipping  another  tree-top. 
I  understood  its  remoteness;  in  my  agony  I  was 
part  of  it.  What  were  men,  countries,  empires! 
I  felt  the  insignificance  of  life,  of  suffering. 
What  did  it  matter  if  these  Indians  died !  Why 
should  we  not  all  die  ?  I  crawled  to  my  knees. 
I  would  give  the  signal  to  retreat.  I  would  give 
it  now.  Let  the  massacre  come. 

But  I  fell  back.  I  could  not.  I  could  not. 
Three  hundred  lives  for  one  life.  I  could  spill 
my  own  blood  for  her,  but  not  theirs. 

But  as  for  empire,  I  had  forgotten  its  mean 
ing. 

All  of  these  men  lying  in  the  shadows  had 
women  who  were  dear.  Many  of  the  wives 
would  kill  themselves  if  their  husbands  died.  I 
had  seen  an  Indian  wife  do  it;  she  had  smiled 
while  she  was  dying. 

Would  the  woman  think  of  me  —  at  the  last  ? 
She  would  not  know  that  I  had  failed  her.  She 
would  not  know  that  I  was  worse  than  Starling. 

She  was  the  highest-couraged,  the  most  finely 
wrought  woman  that  the  world  knew.  Yet  two 
men  had  failed  her. 


THE  MEANING  OF  CONQUEST  401 

"Monsieur,"  she  had  said,  "life  has  not  been 
so  pleasant  that  I  should  wish  to  live." 

It  was  only  a  week  ago  that  she  —  she,  alive, 
untouched,  my  own  —  had  walked  away  from 
me  in  the  sunshine,  leaning  on  Cadillac's  arm. 
And  I  had  let  her  go.  And  I  had  let  her  go. 

And  I  had  let  her  go.  I  said  that  over  and 
over,  with  my  mouth  dry,  and  I  forgot  time.  I 
did  not  know  that  minutes  were  passing,  but  I 
looked  up,  and  the  stars  were  dim,  and  branches 
and  twigs  were  taking  form.  Day  would  be  on 
us  soon. 

I  raised  myself  on  my  elbow  and  peered.  I 
could  see  very  little,  but  I  could  hear  the  strange 
rhythmic  rustle  that  I  call  the  breathing  of  the  for 
est.  And  with  it  mingled  the  breathing  of  three 
hundred  warriors.  They  carried  clubs,  arrows, 
muskets.  I  was  to  give  them  the  signal  for  war. 

I  tried  to  rise.  I  was  up  on  my  knees.  I  fell 
back.  I  tried  again.  My  muscles  did  not  obey. 
I  saw  the  war  club  of  the  Indian  beside  me.  My 
hands  stole  out  to  it.  A  blow  on  my  own  head 
would  end  matters.  My  hands  closed  on  the 
handle  of  the  club. 

Then  the  savage  next  me  stirred.  That 
roused  me.  The  insanity  was  over,  and  sweat 
rained  from  me  at  realization  of  my  weakness,  — 
the  weakness  that  always  traps  a  man  unsure  of 
his  values,  his  judgment.  When  men  say  that  a 


402  MONTLIVET 

man's  life  is  not  his  own  to  take,  I  am  not  sure. 
But  that  had  nothing  to  do  with  me  now.  I  was 
not  a  man  in  the  sense  of  having  a  man's  free 
volition.  When  I  had  given  up  human  claims 
for  myself,  I  had  ceased  to  exist  as  an  independent 
agent.  It  was  only  by  knowing  that  I  was  a  tool 
that  I  could  keep  myself  alive. 

And  so  I  sat  upon  my  knees  and  whispered  to  the 
Indians  about  me.  They  whispered  in  turn,  and 
soon  three  hundred  men  were  waked  and  ready. 

Yet  the  forest  scarcely  rustled. 

I  motioned,  and  the  line  started.  We  crept 
some  twenty  paces  from  tree  to  tree.  Then 
ahead  of  us  I  saw  an  opening.  I  could  distin 
guish  the  outlines  of  a  rough  redoubt. 

I  stepped  in  front  and  stopped  a  moment.  It 
had  grown  light  enough  for  me  to  see  the  faces  of 
the  Sac  warriors.  Dirt-crusted ,  red-eyed,  wolfish, 
they  awaited  my  signal. 

I  raised  my  sword.     "Ready!"  I  called. 

An  inferno  of  yells  arose.  We  ran  at  the  top  of 
our  speed.  We  charged  the  stake-built  redoubt 
with  knives  in  hands.  Mingled  with  our  war  cry 
I  heard  the  screams  of  the  awakening  camp. 

I  reached  the  palings.  They  were  of  bass 
wood,  roughly  split  and  tough.  I  could  not  scale 
them  with  my  lame  shoulder.  I  seized  a  hatchet 
from  an  Indian,  struck  the  stakes,  wrenched  one 
free,  and  climbed  through  the  hole. 


THE  MEANING  OF  CONQUEST  403 

The  camp  was  in  an  uproar.  A  few  Sacs  had 
scaled  the  redoubt  ahead  of  me,  and  one  of  them 
was  grappling  with  a  Seneca  just  in  my  path.  I 
dodged  them  and  ran  on.  Behind  me  I  heard 
the  terrible  roar  of  the  blood-hungry  army. 

I  fought  my  way  on.  Warriors  and  slaves 
rose  before  me  and  screamed  at  my  knife,  and  at 
something  that  was  in  my  face.  I  did  not  touch 
them.  I  had  to  find  the  woman.  She  might  be 
hiding  in  one  of  the  huts.  But  there  were  many 
bark  huts,  and  all  alike.  I  ran  on. 

The  air  was  thickening  with  powder  smoke, 
and  the  taste  of  blood  was  in  my  throat.  A 
hatchet  whistled  by  me  and  cut  the  cloth  from 
my  shoulder.  I  saw  the  Seneca  who  threw  the 
hatchet,  but  I  would  not  stop.  Corpses  were  in 
my  way.  Twice  I  slipped  in  blood  and  went  to 
my  knees. 

I  must  search  each  lodge,  each  group.  I  had 
seen  nothing  that  looked  like  a  woman. 

An  Indian  grappled  with  me,  and  I  slashed  at 
him  till  he  was  helpless.  I  was  covered  with 
blood  that  was  not  my  own.  I  let  him  drop  and 
stumbled  on. 

I  could  not  find  the  woman.  I  had  not  seen 
Starling  nor  Pierre  nor  Labarthe  nor  Leclerc. 

And  over  all  the  noise  of  tearing  flesh  and  the 
screams  of  dying  men  came  the  sound  of  singing, 
of  constant,  exultant  singing,  —  the  singing  of 


404  MONTLIVET 

victors  binding  their  captives ;  the  death  songs  of 
wounded  preparing  to  die. 

I  saw  two  bodies  lying  together  as  if  the  same 
arrow  had  cleft  them.  Their  hands  sprawled 
toward  me,  red  and  beckoning.  They  were  mu 
tilated,  but  I  knew  their  clothes.  They  were 
Leclerc  and  Labarthe.  Leclerc  was  hanging  on 
Labarthe  as  he  had  leaned  in  life. 

I  had  brought  these  men  to  the  wilderness. 
And  Simon  was  dead,  too.  I  went  on. 

I  saw  a  Seneca,  stripped  and  running  blood, 
crouch  to  a  white  man  on  the  ground  and  lift  his 
knife  to  take  the  scalp.  I  sprang  upon  him,  but 
he  dashed  my  knife  away,  found  his  feet,  and 
pressed  at  me.  I  dodged  his  hatchet,  and  catch 
ing  up  a  skin  shield  from  the  ground  turned  on 
him.  I  was  taller  than  he,  and  I  smashed  the 
shield  down  on  his  head  so  that  he  dropped.  I 
pounded  him  till  he  was  beyond  doing  harm  to 
any  one,  then  I  took  his  knife  and  hatchet,  tossed 
him  aside,  and  turned  to  the  white  man. 

It  was  Starling,  and  there  was  life  in  him,  for 
he  opened  his  eyes. 

.  I  took  my  flask  and  forced  brandy  between  his 
teeth.  He  recognized  me  but  could  not  speak. 
A  great  spear  had  torn  through  his  chest.  I 
started  to  pull  it  out,  but  when  I  looked  farther 
and  saw  what  a  hatchet  had  done  I  checked  my 
self. 


THE  MEANING  OF  CONQUEST  405 

His  eyes  were  on  mine  and  he  tried  to  speak. 
It  was  more  than  I  could  look  at,  —  his  effort  to 
hold  life  in  his  torn  body  and  tell  me  something. 
I  eased  his  head  and  gave  him  more  brandy. 

And  then  he  found  strength  to  try  to  push  me 
away.  "Go!  Go!  The  woman!"  I  made  the 
words  out  of  the  writhing  of  his  lips. 

I  leaned  over  him.  "  Where  ?  Where  is  she  ? 
Where?" 

He  tried  many  times  before  he  made  a  sound 
that  I  could  catch,  and  his  strength  ebbed.  I 
tried  more  brandy,  but  he  was  past  reviving.  I 
strained  to  hear,  till  my  agony  matched  his. 

I  thought  I  caught  a  word.  "Woods!"  I 
cried.  "Is  she  in  the  woods?" 

;<Yes."  He  suddenly  spoke  clearly.  "Go." 
And  he  fell  back  in  my  arms. 

I  thought  that  he  died  with  that  word,  but  I 
held  him  a  moment  longer  to  make  sure.  It  did 
not  matter  now  that  I  hated  him.  As  to  what 
he  had  brought  on  me,  —  I  could  not  visit  my  de 
spair  on  him  for  that.  As  well  rage  at  the  forces 
that  made  him.  Life  had  given  him  a  little  soul 
in  a  compelling  body.  The  world  believed  the 
body,  and  expected  of  the  man  what  he  could  not 
reach.  I  looked  at  his  dead  face  and  trembled 
before  the  mystery  of  inheritance. 

But  he  was  not  dead.  He  opened  his  eyes  to 
mine,  quivered,  and  spoke,  and  his  voice  was  clear. 


406  MONTLIVET 

"I  would  have  followed  her  into  the  woods  but 
they  bound  me.  I  was  not  a  coward  that  time. 
I  would  have  followed  her." 

And  then  the  end  came  to  him  in  a  way  that  I 
could  not  mistake,  for  with  the  last  struggle  he 
cried  to  the  woman. 

I  laid  him  down.  While  I  had  held  him  I  had 
known  that  Frenchmen  were  fighting  around  me, 
and  my  neck  was  slimy  with  warm  blood,  for 
an  arrow  had  nicked  my  ear.  But  the  battle  had 
swayed  on  to  the  north  of  the  camp,  and  only 
dead  and  dying  were  left  in  sight.  I  looked  at 
Starling.  I  could  not  carry  him.  I  took  off  my 
coat,  covered  the  body,  and  went  on. 

The  woman  had  gone  to  the  woods.  She  had 
gone  to  the  woods. 

But  woods  lay  on  every  side. 

As  I  ran  through  the  camp  toward  the  north 
I  saw  a  woman  ahead  of  me.  She  had  a  broad, 
fat  figure,  and  I  knew  she  was  an  Indian.  But 
she  was  a  woman  and  the  first  that  I  had  seen. 
I  caught  her  and  jerked  her  around  to  face  me. 

"The  woman?  The  white  woman?  Where 
is  she?"  I  used  the  Illinois  speech. 

The  woman  was  a  Miami  slave  and  appar 
ently  unhurt.  But  as  I  stood  over  her  a  line  of 
foam  bubbled  out  of  her  blue  lips.  Her  eyes 
were  meaningless.  I  had  frightened  her  into 
catalepsy,  and  I  ground  my  teeth  at  my  ill  luck, 


THE  MEANING  OF  CONQUEST  407 

for  she  could  have  told  me  something  of  the  wo 
man.  I  took  my  brandy  flask  and  tried  to  pry 
her  teeth  apart. 

Both  of  my  hands  were  busy  with  her  when 
Pierre's  bellow  rose  from  behind  me.  "Master! 
Jump!  Jump!"  In  the  same  instant  I  heard 
breathing  close  upon  me. 

I  jumped.  As  I  did  it  I  heard  the  crash  of  a 
hatchet  through  bone,  and  the  pounding  of  a  great 
body  heaving  down  upon  its  knees.  I  turned. 

Pemaou's  hatchet  was  in  Pierre's  brain,  and 
my  giant,  my  man  who  had  lived  with  me,  was 
crumpled  down  on  hands  and  knees,  looking  at 
me  and  dying. 

I  called  out  like  a  mad  thing,  and  insanity  gave 
me  power.  I  tore  the  red  hatchet  from  Pemaou's 
hands  and  pinioned  him.  My  fingers  dug  into 
his  throat,  and  I  threw  him  to  the  ground.  He 
bared  his  wolf's  teeth  and  began  his  death  song. 

But  I  raved  at  him,  and  choked  him  to  silence. 

"You  are  not  to  die  now !  "  I  shouted  at  his  glaz 
ing  eyes.  'You  shall  live.  I  shall  torture  you. 
You  shall  live  to  be  tortured." 

I  carried  rope  around  my  waist,  and  I  took  it 
and  bound  him.  How  I  did  it  is  not  clear,  for  I 
had  a  weak  shoulder  and  he  was  muscular.  But 
now  he  seemed  palsied  and  I  a  giant.  It  was 
done.  I  bound  him  till  he  was  rigid  and  helpless. 

And  then  I  fell  to  my  knees  beside  Pierre.     He 


408  MONTLIVET 

was  dead.  I  had  lost  even  the  parting  from  him. 
My  giant  was  dead.  He  had  taken  the  blow 
meant  for  me. 

Pierre  was  dead,  and  Simon  and  Labarthe  and 
Leclerc.  I  had  brought  them  to  the  wilderness 
because  I  believed  in  a  western  empire  for  France. 
I  left  Pierre  and  went  on. 

But  I  had  not  gone  far  when  a  cry  rose  behind 
me.  It  was  louder  than  the  calls  of  the  dying.  It 
was  the  wail  of  an  Indian  woman  for  her  dead.  I 
ran  back.  Singing  Arrow  lay  stretched  on  Pierre's 
body. 

I  looked  at  her.  I  did  not  ask  myself  how  she 
came  there,  though  I  had  thought  her  safe  in  the 
Malhominis  village.  So  she  had  loved  the  man 
enough  to  follow  secretly.  I  left  her  with  him 
and  went  on. 

I  stepped  over  men  who  were  mangled  and 
scalped.  Some  of  them  were  not  dead,  and  they 
clutched  at  me.  But  I  went  on  my  way. 

Indians  and  troops  were  gathered  at  the  north 
of  the  camp.  The  warfare  was  over.  Corpses 
were  stacked  like  logs,  and  the  savages  were 
binding  their  captives  and  chanting  of  their  vic 
tories.  The  French  stood  together,  leaning  on 
their  muskets.  I  saw  Cadillac  unhurt,  and  went 
to  him. 

"Is  the  bugler  alive?  Have  him  sound  the 
call." 


THE  MEANING  OF  CONQUEST  409 

The  commandant  turned  at  sound  of  my  voice. 
He  was  elated  and  would  have  embraced  me, 
but  seeing  my  face  his  mood  altered.  He  gave 
the  order. 

The  bugle  restored  quiet,  and  I  raised  my 
sword  for  attention.  I  asked  each  tribe  in  turn 
if  they  had  seen  a  white  woman.  Then  I  asked 
the  French.  I  gained  only  a  storm  of  negatives. 

I  went  on  with  the  orders  to  the  tribes.  All 
captives  were  to  be  treated  kindly  and  their 
wounds  dressed.  This  was  because  they  were  to 
be  adopted,  and  it  was  prudent  to  keep  them  in 
good  condition.  The  argument  might  restrain 
the  savages.  I  was  not  sure. 

And  all  the  time  that  I  was  speaking  I  won 
dered  if  I  looked  and  talked  as  other  men  did. 
Would  the  savages  obey  me  as  they  had  done 
when  I  was  a  live,  breathing  force,  full  of  ardor 
and  belief?  They  seemed  to  see  no  difference. 
I  finished  my  talk  to  them  and  turned  to  Cadillac. 
'You  do  not  need  me  now.  You  will  be  oc 
cupied  caring  for  the  wounded  and  burying  the 
dead.  The  Indians  will  not  attempt  torture 
to-day.  I  am  going  to  the  woods." 

"To  the  woods?" 

"The  woman  is  in  the  woods.  She  must  have 
gone  at  the  first  alarm.  I  cannot  find  her  here." 

"Ask  the  captives.     They  will  know." 

"It  is  useless  to  ask  them.     They  will  not 


410  MONTLIVET 

speak  now.  It  is  a  code.  I  am  going  to  the 
woods.  Send  what  soldiers  you  can  to  search 
with  me." 

"Shall  I  send  Indians  with  you,  too?" 

"Not  now.  They  are  useless  now.  They 
could  trail  nothing.  Let  me  go." 

He  followed  like  a  father.  "You  will  come 
back?" 

'Yes,  I  will  come  back." 

But  I  had  three  things  to  do  before  I  was  free 
to  go  to  the  woods.  To  go  to  the  woods  where 
I  would  find  the  woman. 

I  searched  for  the  Miami  slave  woman.  She 
was  dead.  That  cut  my  last  hope  of  news. 

I  saw  that  Pemaou  was  still  well  bound,  and  I 
had  him  carried  into  a  hut  to  await  my  orders. 

I  went  to  Pierre's  body.  Singing  Arrow  still 
wailed  beside  it,  and  cried  out  that  it  should  not 
be  moved.  I  told  her  the  soldiers  would  obey 
her  orders,  and  carry  it  where  she  wished. 

But  there  was  a  fourth  matter.  I  spoke  to 
Dubisson,  and  my  tongue  was  furry  and  cold. 

"  See  that  watch  is  kept  on  the  bags  of  scalps 
for  European  hair." 

Then  I  went  to  the  woods. 


CHAPTER   XXXI 

THE    UNDESERVED 

THERE  were  birds  in  the  woods,  and  soft  breezes. 
Squirrels  chattered  at  me,  and  I  saw  flowers. 
And  sometimes  I  saw  blood  on  trampled  moss 
where  fugitives  had  been  before. 

I  called,  and  fired  my  arquebus.  I  wrhistled, 
for  that  sound  carried  far.  Since  that  day  the 
sound  of  a  whistle  is  terrible  to  me.  It  means 
despair. 

Soldiers,  grave-faced,  respectful,  followed  me. 
They  were  faint  for  food,  and  sore  and  sick  from 
warfare,  but  they  came  with  me  without  protest. 
They  gave  me  the  deference  we  show  a  mourner 
in  a  house  of  death.  I  turned  to  them  in  a  rage. 

"  Make  more  noise.  Laugh.  Talk.  Be  nat 
ural.  I  command  you. " 

We  divided  the  woods  among  us,  like  game- 
beaters  in  a  thicket,  and  went  over  the  ground 
foot  by  foot.  We  found  nothing.  The  birds 
sang  and  the  sun  went  higher.  Though  the 
woods  were  pure  and  clean  I  could  smell  blood 
everywhere.  In  time  a  man  dropped  from  ex 
haustion.  At  that  I  gave  the  word  to  go  back  to 
camp. 


412  MONTLIVET 

The  camp  itself  was  less  terrible  than  the  mem 
ories  that  had  been  with  me  as  I  walked  through 
the  unsullied  woods.  The  wounded  were  cared 
for  and  the  dead  buried.  The  Indians  were 
gathered  around  their  separate  fires,  chanting, 
feeding,  bragging,  and  sleeping.  The  French 
had  made  a  camp  at  one  side,  and  they,  too,  were 
seeking  comfort  through  food  and  sleep.  Life 
was  progressing  as  if  the  mutilated  dead  had 
never  been. 

We  had  succeeded,  Cadillac  assured  me.  All 
the  Senecas  were  dead  or  captured  and  our  total 
loss,  French  and  savage,  was  only  seventy-five 
men.  We  had  but  few  wounded,  and  the  sur 
geon  said  they  would  recover. 

I  nodded,  took  food,  and  went  alone  to  eat.  I 
sat  there  a  long  time.  Cadillac  came  toward  me 
once  as  if  to  speak,  but  looked  at  me  and  turned 
away. 

At  last  I  had  made  up  my  mind,  and  I  went  to 
the  hut  where  I  had  left  Pemaou.  It  had  taken 
time  to  fight  down  my  longing  for  even  combat 
with  him,  but  I  knew  that  I  must  not  risk  that, 
for  I  needed  to  keep  my  life  for  a  time.  So  I 
would  try  for  speech  with  him  first,  and  then  he 
should  die.  And  since  he  must  die  helpless, 
he  must  die  as  painlessly  as  possible.  Physical 
revenge  had  become  abominable  to  me.  It  was 
inadequate. 


THE  UNDESERVED  413 

I  entered  the  hut.  Pemaou's  figure  lay,  face 
downward,  on  the  floor.  It  had  a  rigidity  that 
did  not  come  from  the  thongs  that  bound  it.  I 
turned  it  over.  The  Indian's  throat  was  cut. 
Life  had  flowed  out  of  the  red,  horrible  opening. 

I  think  that  I  cursed  at  the  dead  man.  Corpse 
that  he  was,  he  had  tricked  me  again,  for  I  had 
hoped,  against  reason,  to  force  information  from 
him.  Death  had  not  dignified  his  wolfish  face. 
He  had  died,  as  he  had  lived,  a  snarling  animal, 
whose  sagacity  was  that  of  the  brute.  And  I  had 
lost  with  him  this  time,  as  I  had  lost  before,  by 
taking  thought,  and  so  losing  time.  An  animal 
does  not  hesitate,  and  he  is  a  fool  who  deliberates 
in  dealing  with  him.  I  tasted  desolation  as  I 
stood  there. 

A  moccasin  stepped  behind  me.  "I  killed 
him,"  said  Singing  Arrow's  voice. 

I  turned.  She  was  terrible  to  look  at.  Life 
had  given  this  savage  woman  strength  of  will 
and  soul  without  training  to  balance  it.  She 
was  Nemesis  incarnate.  Yet  blood-stained  and 
tragic  as  was  her  face,  her  words  were  calm. 

"  He  killed  my  man." 

What  was  there  to  say  ?  It  was  only  her  look 
that  showed  she  had  been  through  tempests;  in 
mind  she  seemed  as  numbed  as  I.  I  took  her  by 
the  arm  and  led  her  outside.  I  turned  away  from 
the  blood-soaked  camp,  and  took  her  to  the  beach 


414  MONTLIVET 

where  the  water  was  yellow- white  and  rippled  on 
the  sand.  I  motioned  her  to  wash  away  the 
blood  stains  on  her  face  and  arms.  Then  I  spoke. 

"Singing  Arrow,  do  you  intend  to  kill  your 
self  and  follow  Pierre  ?  " 

She  drew  her  blanket  high  and  folded  her 
arms.  ;<  Yes,  if  he  calls  me.  When  I  dream  of 
him  twice  I  shall  know  that  he  is  crying  for  me 
and  cannot  rest,  so  I  shall  go  after  him.  I  have 
dreamed  once  already,  —  after  I  killed  the  Huron. 
When  I  dream  once  more  I  can  go." 

I  touched  her  arm.  "Look  at  me.  Singing 
Arrow,  Pierre  is  not  calling  you  to  follow  him. 
He  is  calling  you  to  pick  up  his  work  where  he 
had  to  drop  it.  He  died  trying  to  save  me.  He 
wants  you  to  help  me  now.  My  wife  is  in  the 
woods.  You  are  to  help  me  find  her.  Will  you 
help  me,  Singing  Arrow  ?" 

She  shook  her  head.  As  she  looked  at  me, 
scornful  and  sorrowful  and  absolutely  unmoved, 
she  was  one  of  the  most  beautiful  women  I  had 
ever  seen.  I  knew  this  remotely,  as  an  unblest 
ghost  might  know  a  warmth  he  could  not  feel. 

'You  do  not  need  me.  If  your  whisper  can 
not  reach  the  white  woman  she  would  not  hear 
my  shouts.  I  must  go  with  my  man." 

"Singing  Arrow,  the  Great  Spirit  is  not  ready 
for  you.  When  he  is  ready  he  will  send.  You 
must  wait  for  him  to  send." 


THE  UNDESERVED  415 

She  did  not  shift  her  look  from  me.  "Your 
Great  Spirit  is  strange.  He  tells  you  that  you 
are  brave  men  and  good  when  you  take  other 
lives,  but  he  will  not  let  you  take  your  own. 
Why  should  you  have  power  over  other  men's 
bodies  if  your  own  does  not  belong  to  you  ?  Your 
Great  Spirit  may  be  right  for  you  white  men, 
but  for  me  he  speaks  like  a  child.  When  my 
man  calls  me  I  shall  go.'*  She  dropped  her 
eyes,  wrapped  her  blanket  closer,  and  went 
away.  I  did  not  follow  her.  She  had  as  sound 
a  right  to  her  belief  as  I  to  mine. 

And  what  was  my  belief  ? 

The  sun  was  at  the  horizon,  and  I  went  to 
Cadillac.  ''You  hold  council  to-morrow?" 

"Yes,  to-morrow  morning." 

"  I  shall  be  here." 

"But  where  are  you  going  now  ?" 

"To  the  woods." 

Cadillac  took  me  by  the  arm.  "  Montlivet,  be 
sane!" 

But  I  think  that  as  he  looked  at  me  he  saw  that 
I  was  sane.  "I  shall  be  with  you  in  the  morn 
ing,"  I  promised.  And  I  would  have  no  further 
words. 

All  that  night  in  the  woods,  both  waking  and 
dreaming,  the  thought  of  the  woman  was  like 
a  presence  near  me.  I  slept  some,  dropping 
against  trees,  then  roused  and  stumbled  on.  I 


416  MONTLIVET 

do  not  know  that  I  consciously  searched  for  her, 
but  I  went  on  and  on  to  meet  her.  It  seemed 
that  I  should  always  do  that  while  I  lived,  — 
should  always  push  my  way  forward,  feeling  that 
beyond  the  next  turn  she  stood  beckoning. 

The  stars  rose  and  set.  There  were  multitudes 
of  them  and  very  bright.  If  man  could  only 
have  his  orbit  fixed  and  follow  it  as  they  did ;  be 
compelled  to  follow  it  by  a  governing  power! 
The  terrible  cruelty  of  a  God  who  throws  voli 
tion  into  a  man's  hands  without  giving  him  under 
standing  to  handle  it  came  to  me  for  the  first 
time. 

When  day  arrived  I  ate  a  portion  of  meal  and 
meat,  and  made  my  way  back.  It  was  a  long 
trip,  for  I  had  wandered  far,  and  when  I  reached 
the  camp  the  sun  was  three  hours  high.  A  large 
tent  had  been  made  of  skins  and  tarpaulins,  and 
French  and  savages  were  gathered  there  and  wait 
ing.  I  was  late.  The  calumet  was  already  pass 
ing  as  I  went  in. 

I  halted  a  moment  at  the  entrance.  There 
was  no  cheer  of  welcome  at  sight  of  me.  Instead 
there  was  a  hush,  —  the  hush  of  suspended 
breathing.  In  two  days  these  savages  had  come 
to  draw  aside  from  me  for  what  was  in  my  look. 
"  His  face  is  the  face  of  one  dead,"  Outchipouac 
had  said.  I  knew  that  I  had  grown  to  seem 
abnormal,  alien.  I  tried  to  form  my  expression 


THE  UNDESERVED  417 

to  better  lines,  but  it  was  out  of  my  power.  I 
took  my  place  as  interpreter,  and  the  long  con 
clave  opened. 

The  hours  of  droning  speeches  went  on  and  on. 
Each  tribe  presented  its  claims,  and  metaphor 
shouldered  metaphor.  It  sounded  trivial  as  the 
bragging  of  blue-jays,  but  I  interpreted  carefully 
and  kept  the  different  headings  in  mind.  Then 
I  asked  Cadillac's  permission,  and  took  it  on  my 
self  to  answer. 

Sometimes  the  Power  that  rules  us,  and  that 
shoves  us  here  and  there  to  play  our  parts  in  the 
game,  seems  to  me  nothing  but  a  cold-eyed  justice, 
remote,  indifferent,  impartially  judicial.  So  I 
felt  now.  In  looking  at  the  issue  I  saw  that 
meaning  and  vitality  had  gone  from  my  spirit, 
but  I  had  kept  equity.  I  parceled  the  spoil 
among  the  tribes,  and  did  it  without  doubt  of  my 
judgment  or  care  for  its  acceptance.  I  remem 
bered  Outchipouac's  plea  for  his  people,  and 
found  it  just.  The  Malhominis  had  sent  the 
largest  force  in  proportion  to  the  strength  of  their 
tribe,  and  their  position  on  the  bay  was  strategi 
cal.  So  I  gave  them  their  choice  of  a  third  of  the 
captives.  To  the  remaining  tribes  I  gave  the 
rest  of  the  captives  and  the  confiscated  weapons. 
Then  I  passed  the  calumet  among  them. 

I  had  spoken  coldly,  as  an  onlooker.  Per 
haps  my  air  of  detachment  gave  me  authority. 


418  MONTLIVET 

The  chiefs  smoked  the  calumet  and  ratified  my 
words.  That  part  of  the  council  was  over. 

And  then  to  the  future.  Cadillac  rose.  His 
eloquence  painted  the  prospect  till  it  shimmered 
like  a  dream  landscape,  rose-tinted,  iridescent, 
with  sparkling  vistas  full  of  music  and  bugle 
calls  and  the  tramp  of  marching  men  with  the 
sun  in  their  faces.  We,  French  and  Indians,  were 
a  united  people.  Our  young  men  were  brave 
and  full  of  vigor.  We  should  sweep  all  before 
us.  We  should  crush  the  Iroquois  and  drive  the 
English  far  away  over  seas.  We  should  go  now 
to  Michillimackinac  and  march  from  there  to 
conquest  and  empire.  All  the  bubble  dreams 
of  sovereignty,  from  Nineveh  on,  glittered  in  his 
words.  I  translated  faithfully. 

Outchipouac  answered.  I  had  somehow  won 
his  spirit,  which  was  brave  and  vigorous.  Per 
haps  he  repented  his  distrust  of  me.  My  silver 
chain  was  on  his  neck,  and  he  fingered  it.  He 
said  that  where  I  led  the  Malhominis  would 
follow.  His  wild  imagery  swept  like  the  torrent 
of  an  epic.  The  man  was  warrior,  dreamer, 
fatalist.  He  called  on  the  chiefs  of  the  tribes 
to  witness  what  I  was,  what  I  had  done.  Water 
could  not  drown  me,  arrows  could  not  harm  me. 
I  wore  the  French  garb  and  my  face  was  white, 
but  I  was  something  more  universal  than  any 
race.  I  spoke  all  tongues.  I  was  like  the  air 


THE   UNDESERVED  419 

which  belonged  to  French  and  Indian  alike.  I 
was  a  manitou ;  I  had  been  sent  to  lead  the  Indians 
back  to  the  supremacy  that  they  had  almost  lost. 

I  could  believe  him  as  I  listened.  I  did  not 
remember  that  he  spoke  of  me.  He  was  talking 
of  some  great  principle,  some  crystallization  of 
the  forces  of  the  woods  in  man's  shape.  The 
woods  that  had  nurtured  the  Indian  should  pro 
tect  him.  At  last,  out  from  the  woods  had  come 
this  spirit,  —  this  spirit  that  was  their  voice.  He 
did  not  talk  to  me,  he  talked  to  the  skies  and  the 
clouds  and  the  forces  that  dwelt  in  them.  It  was 
the  call  of  a  savage  king  to  the  soul  of  the  wild 
earth  that  had  cradled  him. 

So  swept  away  was  I  that  I  could  not  have 
translated.  But  it  was  not  necessary.  He  had 
spoken  in  Algonquin,  which  all  but  the  French 
and  Hurons  understood.  The  war  chiefs  rose. 
It  is  strange.  An  Indian  may  scalp  and  torture, 
yet  have  at  heart  much  of  the  seer  and  poet.  The 
chiefs  came  forward  and  laid  their  bows  and 
quivers  full  of  arrows  at  my  feet. 

For  a  moment  Outchipouac's  speech  had 
warmed  me  as  I  thought  I  might  not  be  warm 
again.  But  when  I  saw  the  chiefs  advancing  I 
became  stone. 

"  I  cannot  lead  you,"  I  said  in  Algonquin,  and 
I  knew  my  voice  was  blank.  "Outchipouac  is 
wrong.  I  am  no  manitou,  but  a  man  so  weak  he 


420  MONTLIVET 

does  not  know  the  truth  even  for  himself.  How 
can  he  lead  others  ?  When  I  brought  you  here 
the  sun  shone  brightly,  and  I  thought  I  saw  the 
way  ahead.  Now  I  am  in  darkness  and  mist. 
Go.  Leave  me.  Find  a  leader  whose  sight  is 
not  clouded."  I  turned  my  back  and  stood  with 
my  head  down. 

A  murmur  rose.  I  had  broken  the  illusion. 
We  had  all  been  riding  the  clouds  of  fancy,  and  I 
had  dashed  us  to  earth  again.  The  chiefs  had 
come  to  me  with  their  hands  out,  and  I  had 
thrown  water  in  their  faces.  They  had  reason 
for  their  anger.  Cadillac  saw  the  pantomime 
and  lumbered  from  his  seat.  He  seized  my  arm. 

"  Montlivet,  you  are  insane !     You  are  insane ! " 

I  pointed  him  to  the  woods.  "Monsieur,  I 
have  dropped  my  sword.  I  shall  go  into  the 
forest  for  a  time." 

He  shook  me  as  if  I  were  in  a  torpor.  ;<  Your 
wife"  — 

"I  shall  search  for  her.  I  am  going  out  now 
with  Indian  trailers.  I  shall  not  leave  this 
country  till  all  hope  is  past,  —  then  I  shall  go 
west." 

For  a  moment  suspicion  clutched  him.  "  Oh, 
you  would  form  your  union  without  me!  You 
are  planning  a  dictatorship." 

I  took  him  by  the  arm  and  begged  him  to 
understand.  "I  have  dropped  my  sword,"  I 


THE  UNDESERVED  421 

reiterated.     "  I  am  going  on  alone.     I  have  skins 
and    provisions    cached    at    Sturgeon    Cove  — 
enough  for  barter.     I  am  not  insane.     I  shall  go 
prudently.     There  are  lands  and  peoples  to  be 
explored  in  the  west." 

The  clamor  grew.  Dubisson  and  others  of 
the  French  came  nearer. 

"Speak  to  the  chiefs  now.  Speak  to  them 
now,"  they  begged.  ;'You  can  save  the  situa 
tion  yet." 

I  w^atched  the  Indians.  "They  are  departing 
peacefully." 

"But  they  are  departing!" 

I  looked  at  Cadillac.     "And  why  not?" 

He  drew  his  sword.  "  Montlivet,  have  you 
turned  priest  —  or  coward  ?  Do  you  dare  to  try 
and  tell  me  that  war  is  wrong  ?" 

I  looked  at  him,  and  left  my  own  sword  un 
touched.  "  I  do  not  know  what  I  believe.  I  am 
going  back  in  the  woods.  Perhaps  I  shall  learn. 
But  now  we  have  done  all  that  we  set  out  to  do. 
We  have  destroyed  the  Seneca  war  party.  We 
shall  be  safe  from  the  Iroquois  for  some  time." 

"But  we  are  just  ready  to  go  on.  Our  men 
are  ready." 

His  words  seemed  meaningless.  "Ready! 
Are  intoxicated  men  ready?  We  have  drunk 
blood.  Now  we  are  drunk  with  words.  I  will 
not"  — 


MONTLIVET 

A  roar  outside  cut  my  words  short.  "The  wo 
man!  The  woman!"  I  heard  the  cry  in  sev 
eral  languages  at  once,  but  1  could  not  compre 
hend  it.  I  saw  the  crowd  rise  and  surge  toward 
me,  making  for  the  entrance  of  the  tent.  I  turned 
and  ran  with  them.  Yet  my  mind  was  numb. 

We  reached  the  outside.  I  was  in  advance. 
A  great  canoe  was  at  the  shore  and  Onanguisse 
was  directing  his  oarsmen.  In  the  bow  of  the 
canoe  sat  the  woman. 

I  reached  her  first;  I  caught  her  from  the 
canoe.  Yes,  she  was  alive;  she  was  unhurt. 
Her  hands  were  warm.  I  heard  her  breathe.  I 
dropped  on  my  knees  at  her  feet. 

And  then  she  bent  over  me  and  whispered, 
"Monsieur,  monsieur,  you  are  unhurt!"  Her 
voice  had  all  its  old  inflections,  and  I  rose  and 
looked  at  her  in  wonder.  Yes,  she  was  alive. 
She  was  grave-eyed  and  haggard,  but  she  was 
alive.  The  hands  that  I  held  were  warm  and 
trembling,  though  my  own  were  cold  and  leaden 
as  my  palsied  tongue.  She  was  dressed  in  skins, 
and  I  could  see  the  brown  hollow  in  her  throat. 
I  could  not  speak.  I  laid  my  lips  upon  her  hand 
and  trembled. 

French  and  savages  pressed  around  us  in  a 
gaping,  silent  ring.  Cadillac  had  given  us  the 
moment  together,  but  he  edged  nearer,  bewil 
dered  by  my  silence. 


THE   UNDESERVED  423 

"  Madame,  we  welcome  you,"  he  cried.  :'  Your 
husband  has  not  been  like  himself  since  he  heard 
of  your  danger.  Give  him  time  to  recover.  We 
have  been  a  camp  of  mourning  for  you.  Tell  us 
of  your  escape." 

And  then  I  spoke.  I  drew  her  hand  through 
my  arm  and  turned  her  to  face  the  crowd.  "  They 
are  your  friends,  madame,"  I  said,  as  if  it  were 
the  conclusion  of  a  long  talk  between  us.  "  Thank 
them,  and  tell  them  of  your  escape." 

But  she  halted  and  turned  again  to  me.  She 
looked  up  with  her  face  close  to  mine,  and  for  the 
first  time  she  met  my  eyes  fully.  We  stood  so 
a  moment,  and  as  she  stood  she  flushed  under 
what  was  in  my  look;  a  wave  of  deepening  pink 
crept  slowly  up  through  her  brown  pallor,  but  she 
did  not  look  away.  I  felt  my  face  harden  to  iron. 
It  was  I  who  turned  from  her,  and  the  faces 
before  me  swam  in  red.  Up  to  that  time  I  had 
grasped  only  the  fact  that  she  was  alive,  that  she 
stood  there,  warm,  beautiful,  unscathed,  that  I 
could  see  her,  touch  her,  hear  the  strange  rise  and 
fall  of  her  voice.  But  with  the  clinging  of  her 
glance  to  mine  I  remembered  more,  and  sweat 
poured  out  on  my  forehead.  She  was  my  wife. 
I  had  forfeited  the  right  to  touch  her  hand. 

The  French  began  to  murmur  questions  and 
she  turned  back  toward  them.  She  stood  close 
by  my  side  with  her  hand  in  mine,  and  looked 


424  MONTLIVET  • 

into  the  faces,  French  and  savage,  that  hemmed 
her  round.  I  think  she  saw  tears  in  some  eyes, 
for  her  voice  suddenly  faltered.  She  made  a  ges 
ture  of  courtesy  and  greeting. 

"I  escaped  days  ago  when  we  were  traveling/* 
she  said  in  her  slow-moving  French,  that  all 
around  might  hear.  "I  made  my  way  to  the 
Pottawatamie  Islands.  Onanguisse  had  called 
me  daughter,  and  I  knew  that  if  I  could  find  his 
people  I  was  safe." 

The  crowd  breathed  together  in  one  exclama 
tion.  ;' You  have  not  been  in  this  camp  at  all  ?" 

I  felt  her  draw  closer  to  me.  "No,  I  have 
not  been  in  this  camp.  You  thought  that  I 
was  here?"  Her  grasp  on  my  hand  tightened. 
"Then  this  is  the  Seneca  camp.  The  battle  is 
over,"  she  said  under  her  breath,  and  she  turned 
to  me.  Her  eyes  were  brave,  but  I  knew  from 
her  trembling  lips  that  she  understood.  "Where 
is  my  cousin  ?" 

I  took  both  her  hands  in  mine.  "He  died  in 
my  arms.  He  died  trying  to  send  me  to  you. 
He  forgot  self.  It  was  the  death  of  a  brave  man, 
madame." 

She  stood  and  looked  at  me.  She  had  forgot 
ten  the  men  around  her.  "  Monsieur,"  she  said, 
and  this  time  her  eyes  were  soft  with  tears,  "my 
cousin  was  not  so  bad  as  he  seemed.  He  could 
not  help  being  what  he  was." 


THE   UNDESERVED  425 

"I  understand." 

"Monsieur,  you  conquered  the  Senecas?" 

'Yes.     We  will  forget  it,  madame." 

She  looked  over  the  heads  of  the  lines  of  sol 
diers  and  grew  white  to  the  lips.  I  knew  that 
she  saw  rows  of  scalps,  and  I  could  not  save  her 
from  it.  Yet  I  implored. 

"Do  not  think  of  it.     It  is  all  over,  madame." 

Her  eyes  came  back  to  me.  "And  Pierre? 
Is  Pierre  safe?" 

"  Madame,  he  —     He  died  saving  me." 

Her  hands  grasped  me  harder.  "And  La- 
barthe?" 

"I  am  all  that  is  left,  madame." 

Still  she  held  to  me.  "Where  is  Singing 
Arrow?" 

I  looked  at  Cadillac.  He  shook  his  head. 
"They  found  the  Indian  woman  this  morning,", 
he  said.  "She  was  dead  beside  her  husband. 
Do  not  grieve  for  her.  Her  face  is  more  than 
happy;  it  is  triumphant.  My  men  called  me  to 
look.  Will  you  see  her  now,  madame?" 

But  she  could  not  answer.  The  hands  that 
held  mine  began  to  chill,  and  I  saw  the  brown 
throat  quiver.  I  turned  to  Cadillac.  "I  have 
no  tent.  May  I  take  madame  to  yours  ?  " 

He  placed  all  that  he  had  at  her  service.  He 
was  moved,  for  he  did  it  with  scant  phrase. 

"But  one  moment,"  he  begged.     "Montlivet, 


426  MONTLIVET 

one  word  with  your  wife  first.  Madame,  I  beg 
you  to  listen.  Will  you  look  around  you  here  ?  " 

She  stopped.     "I  have  looked,  monsieur." 

"Madame,  you  see  those  Indians.  They  are 
war  chiefs  and  picked  braves.  The  brawn  and 
brain  of  six  tribes  are  collected  here  before  you. 
Do  you  know  what  that  means  ?" 

I  saw  her  look  at  him  gravely.  "I  should 
understand.  I  have  lived  in  Indian  camps, 
monsieur." 

He  looked  back  at  her  with  sudden  admira 
tion  that  crowded  the  calculation  out  of  his  eyes. 
"Madame!"  he  exclaimed.  "We  know  your 
spirit  and  knowledge;  we  wish  that  you  could 
teach  us  some  new  way  to  show  you  homage. 
But  do  you  understand  your  husband's  power? 
You  have  never  seen  him  in  the  field.  Look  at 
these  war  chiefs.  They  are  arrogant  and  un 
tamed,  but  they  follow  your  husband  like  parish- 
school  children.  It  is  marvelous,  madame." 

She  lifted  her  long  deer's  throat,  and  I  felt  her 
thrill.  "  Monsieur,  I  think  that  not  even  you  can 
know  half  what  I  do  of  my  husband's  strength 
and  power." 

Her  words  were  knives.  I  would  have  drawn 
her  away,  but  Cadillac  was  before  me.  "  Wait, 
Montlivet,  wait !  This  is  my  time.  I  have  more 
to  say.  Then,  madame,  to  the  point.  These 
chiefs  that  you  see  are  leaving.  They  would 


THE   UNDESERVED  427 

have  been  gone  now  if  you  had  not  come.  They 
are  leaving  us  because  your  husband  said  he 
would  not  lead  them  further.  Talk  to  him.  I 
can  hold  the  tribes  here  a  few  hours  longer.  If 
he  comes  back  to  sanity  by  night,  there  will  still 
be  time  for  him  to  undo  his  folly.  Talk  to  him, 
madame." 

Again  I  tried  to  interrupt,  but  the  pressure  of 
her  hand  begged  me  to  be  silent.  "What  would 
you  have  me  say  to  my  husband  ?  "  she  asked 
Cadillac,  and  she  stood  close  to  me  with  her  head 
high. 

He  drove  his  fists  together.  "I  would  have 
you  bring  him  to  reason,"  he  groaned.  "For 
three  days  he  has  lived  in  a  trance.  He  planned 
the  attack,  and  led  it  without  a  quiver,  but  since 
then  he  has  tried  to  wash  his  hands  of  us  and  of 
the  whole  affair.  It  is  a  crucial  time,  and  he 
is  acting  like  a  madman.  His  anxiety  about 
you  has  unbalanced  him.  Bring  him  to  reason, 
madame." 

I  saw  her  steal  a  glance  at  me  as  a  girl  might  at 
her  lover,  and  there  was  a  strange,  fierce  pride  in 
her  look.  She  bowed  to  Cadillac.  "I  am  glad 
you  told  me  this,  monsieur."  Then  she  turned 
to  me.  "Shall  we  go?" 

But  I  looked  over  her  head  at  the  comman 
dant.  "It  will  be  useless  to  keep  the  tribes  in 
waiting,"  I  warned. 


428  MONTLIVET 

I  went  to  Onanguisse,  the  woman  on  my  arm. 
"  My  heart  is  at  your  feet,"  I  said  to  him.  "  My 
blood  belongs  to  you,  and  my  sword!  " 

He  looked  at  the  woman  and  at  me,  and  he 
spoke  thoughtfully.  "  When  I  found  her  in  my 
lodge  we  had  no  speech  in  common,  but  I  under 
stood.  I  brought  her  to  you.  Now  keep  what 
you  have.  The  best  fisherman  may  let  a  fish  slip 
once  from  his  net  by  accident,  but  his  wits  are  fat 
if  he  lets  it  go  a  second  time." 

I  knew  he  was  troubled.  He  saw  no  posses 
sion  in  my  face,  and  he  thought  me  weak. 

And  then  I  took  the  woman  to  Cadillac's  tent. 


CHAPTER   XXXII 

I   TELL  THE    WOMAN 

CADILLAC'S  tent  held  a  couch  of  brush  covered 
with  skins,  and  I  led  the  woman  to  it  and  bade 
her  sit.  Then  I  moved  away  and  stood  by  the 
rough  table. 

"Madame,"  I  said,  "I  have  something  that  I 
must  tell  you.  I"  — 

She  rose  from  the  couch  and  came  toward  me. 
"Will  you  wait?"  she  interrupted.  "May  I 
speak  first?"  She  stood  beside  me,  and  I  saw 
how  thin  her  hand  was  as  it  rested  on  the  table. 
She  had  been  through  danger,  starvation.  I 
found  myself  shaking. 

"You  went  alone  through  the  woods!"  I  cried, 
and  my  voice  was  hoarse,  so  that  I  had  to  stop 
and  control  it.  "  Did  you  suffer  ?  You  must 
have  suffered,  madame?" 

She  smiled  up  at  me.  "Monsieur,  do  not 
grieve.  It  is  all  over.  And  the  greatest  suffer 
ing  was  in  my  mind.  I  feared  that  you  would 
think  I  disobeyed  you." 

I  clenched  my  hands.  "Madame,  you  must 
not  say  such  things  to  me." 

But  she  touched  her  fingers  to  mine.     "Mon- 


430  MONTLIVET 

sieur,  I  beg  you.  Hear  me  out  before  you  speak. 
As  to  my  coming  here,  I  promised  you  that  I 
would  not  turn  westward,  —  but  I  could  not  help 
it." 

"I  know,  madame." 

"My  cousin  --he  was  —  he  was  a  spy,  after 
all.  He  deceived  us  both.  He  was  carrying 
peace  belts.  But  —  but  I  am  sure  that  he  had 
moments  of  saying  to  himself  that  he  would  re 
fuse  to  act  the  spy.  When  he  lied  to  me,  and 
told  me  that  he  had  no  purpose  but  my  safety,  I 
think  that  he  thought  he  spoke  the  truth." 

"I  know,  madame." 

"But  when  --  when  I  saw  what  he  had  done, 
when  I  saw  that  we  were  going  west,  I  warned 
him  that  I  would  leave  him.  I  told  him,  too, 
that  he  was  going  to  his  death.  He  did  not  be 
lieve  me.  No  watch  was  kept  on  me.  He  had  a 
small  canoe;  I  took  it  one  night.  I  had  provi 
sion  —  a  little  —  I  — I  —  I  am  here,  monsieur." 

I  stood  with  my  eyes  down.  'Your  cousin 
wished  to  follow  you.  The  Indians  restrained 
him.  It  was  as  I  told  you.  He  was  not  a  coward 
at  the  last,  madame." 

I  heard  her  quick  breath.  "  My  cousin,  —  he 
was  very  weak.  But  he  would  have  liked  not  to 
be.  I  think  that  he  would  have  liked  to  be  such 
a  man  as  you,  monsieur." 

If  I  had  been  a  live  man  I  should  have  cried 


I  TELL  THE  WOMAN  431 

out  at  the  irony  of  having  to  hear  her  say  that  to 
me.  But  I  could  not  feel  even  shame. 

"  Hush,  hush ! "  I  said  slowly.  "  It  is  my  turn 
now.  Madame,  I  knew  that  you  were  in  the 
Seneca  camp." 

"But  I  was  not." 

"It  is  the  same  as  if  you  were.  We  had  news 
from  Indian  runners  that  Starling  had  turned 
west  and  joined  Pemaou.  I  knew  that  he  would 
take  you  to  the  Senecas."  I  stopped  and  forced 
myself  to  look  at  her.  But  I  found  no  horror  in 
her  face.  There  was  still  that  strange  glow  of 
pride  that  had  not  faded  since  she  talked  to  Ca 
dillac.  I  saw  that  she  did  not  understand.  My 
voice  was  thick,  but  I  tried  to  speak  again.  She 
interrupted. 

"This  is  not  a  surprise  to  me.  This  wilderness 
that  seems  so  lonely  is  full  of  eyes  and  ears.  I 
feared  that  you  would  hear  that  we  had  turned 
west." 

Her  face  was  unsteady  with  tenderness.  I 
had  never  seen  her  look  like  that.  I  warded  her 
away  though  she  was  several  feet  distant.  '  You 
do  not  understand,"  I  said.  "I  knew  that  you 
were  in  the  camp,  yet  I  gave  the  signal  to  attack 
it.  I  gave  the  signal  to  attack  it  with  Indians, 
and  you  were  inside." 

"But  I  was  not  inside,  monsieur." 

"I  believed  you  to  be,  and  I  gave  the  signal." 


432  MONTLIVET 

"But,  monsieur,  I" 

"Madame,  I  believed  you  to  be  in  the  camp, 
and  I  gave  the  signal  to  attack  it. " 

She  was  silent  at  that,  and  I  knew  that  at 
last  she  understood.  We  stood  side  by  side.  I 
looked  at  the  litter  in  Cadillac 's  tent,  and  counted 
it  piece  by  piece.  There  were  clothes,  papers, 
a  handmill  for  grinding  maize.  I  felt  her  touch 
my  hand. 

"  Will  you  sit  beside  me  on  the  couch  ?" 

I  followed  her.  She  sat  facing  me,  just  out  of 
reach  of  my  hand.  The  light  in  the  tent  was 
blue  and  dim,  but  I  could  see  the  breath  flutter 
in  her  throat.  I  looked  at  her.  I  should  never 
be  alone  with  her  again.  I  should  never  again 
look  at  her  in  this  way.  I  tried  to  hold  the  mo 
ment,  and  not  blur  it.  I  looked  at  the  lips  that  I 
had  never  kissed.  I  watched  the  rise  and  fall  of 
the  bosom  where  my  head  had  never  lain.  She 
was  speaking,  but  I  could  hardly  understand. 

"  I  was  three  days  in  the  woods  before  I  found 
the  Pottawatamies, "  she  said.  "I  was  alone  all 
night  with  the  stars  and  the  trees.  I  thought  of 
everything.  I  thought  of  this,  monsieur.  I  was 
sure  you  would  do  —  what  you  did." 

I  stared  at  her  stupidly. 

She  reached  out  and  touched  my  hand.  "  Mon 
sieur,  listen.  I  have  lived  beside  you.  I  know 
you  to  be  a  man  of  fixed  purpose  and  fanatic 


I  TELL  THE  WOMAN  433 

honor.  When  such  a  man  as  you  lays  out  a 
path  for  himself,  he  will  follow  it  even  if  he  has 
to  trample  on  what  is  in  his  way,  —  even  if  he  has 
to  trample  on  his  heart,  monsieur." 

I  could  not  follow  her  argument.  'You 
should  not  touch  my  hand."  I  drew  it  away. 
;<  You  do  not  understand,  after  all.  Madame,  I 
gave  the  signal  knowing  it  meant  your  murder." 
I  rose,  and  stood  like  stone.  My  arms  hung  like 
weights  by  my  side,  but  I  would  not  look  away 
from  her. 

She  rose,  too.  I  saw  a  strange,  wild  brightness 
flame  into  her  eyes. 

"  Monsieur,"  she  whispered.  "  I  understand  so 
much  more  than  you  realize.  Listen.  You  will 
listen  ?  Monsieur,  until  now  you  have  always 
laughed.  You  have  been  gay,  —  gay  at  all  times. 
Yet,  through  it  all  I  have  seen  —  I  have  always 
seen  —  your  terrible  power  of  self -crucifixion. 
Oh,  I  have  seen  it ;  I  have  feared  it ;  I  have  loved 
it!  I  have  tried  to  get  away  from  it.  But 
always  I  have  been  conscious  of  it.  It  is  you. 
It  has  ruled  all  your  dealings  with  me.  Else  why 
did  you  take  me  with  you  ?  Why  did  you  marry 
me  ?  So  in  this  matter.  You  knew  that  the 
safety  of  the  west,  and  of  the  Indians  who  trusted 
you,  lay  in  attacking  this  camp.  I  knew  that  you 
would  attack  it.  Monsieur,  monsieur,  now  will 
you  touch  my  hand  ?" 


434,  MONTLIVET 

I  stepped  back.  'You  cannot  want  to  touch 
my  hand.  Madame,  you  do  not  know  what  you 
are  saying." 

But  she  did  not  move.  "Monsieur,  will  you 
never  believe  that  I  understand  ?" 

I  could  not  answer.  I  turned  from  her.  The 
air  was  black.  I  seized  her  fur  cloak  which  lay 
on  the  couch  and  pressed  it  in  my  hands.  I 
knew  that  my  breath  rattled  in  groans  like  a 
dying  man's.  If  I  had  tried  to  speak  I  should 
have  snatched  her  to  me.  I  held  fast  to  the 
table.  I  had  no  thought  of  what  she  was  think 
ing.  I  knew  only  that  I  must  stand  there  silent 
if  I  was  to  get  away  from  her  in  safety.  If  I 
touched  her,  if  I  looked  at  her,  I  should  lose  con 
trol,  and  take  what  she  would  give  in  pity.  I 
fought  to  save  her  as  well  as  myself  from  my 
madness. 

At  last  she  spoke,  and  her  voice  was  tired  and 
quiet.  'You  wish  me  to  go,  monsieur?*' 

That  brought  me  to  my  manhood.  I  wrent  to 
her  and  looked  down  at  her  brown  head;  the 
brave  brown  head  that  she  had  carried  so  high 
through  all  the  terror  and  unkindness  that  had 
come  to  her.  I  touched  her  hair  with  my  lips, 
and  I  grew  as  quiet  as  she. 

"Mary,"  I  said,  "it  is  I  who  must  go  away  at 
once  before  I  make  trouble  for  both  of  us.  You 
are  trying  to  forgive  me,  but  you  cannot  do  it. 


I  TELL  THE  WOMAN  435 

You  may  think  you  have  done  it,  but  the  time 
would  come  when  you  would  look  at  me  in  horror, 
as  you  looked  at  Starling.  I  could  stand  death 
better.  I  know  that  you  cannot  forgive  me.  I 
knew  it  at  the  moment  when  I  gave  the  signal  to 
attack  the  camp.  You  can  never  forgive  me." 

She  lifted  her  eyes  to  mine.  "I  have  not  for 
given  you,  monsieur.  There  is  nothing  to  for 
give." 

I  let  myself  look  at  her,  and  all  my  calmness 
left  me.  I  shut  my  teeth  and  tried  to  hold  my 
self  in  bounds. 

"Mary!"  I  groaned,  "be  careful!  Be  care 
ful  !  It  is  not  your  pity  I  want.  If  you  forgive 
me  for  pity" 

I  could  not  finish,  for  she  gave  a  little  sob.  She 
turned  to  me.  "It  is  you  who  marry  for  pity," 
she  cried,  with  her  eyes  brimming.  "  I  could  not. 
I  would  not.  And  I  have  nothing  to  forgive; 
nothing,  nothing.  I  would  not  have  had  you  do 
anything  else.  I  was  proud  of  you.  Oh,  so 
proud,  so  proud !  If  you  had  done  anything  else 
I  could  never  have  —  Monsieur,  do  you  love 
me  — a  little?" 

I  took  her  in  my  arms.  I  held  her  close  to  me 
and  looked  into  her  eyes.  I  looked  deep  into 
them  and  into  the  soul  of  her.  I  saw  under 
standing  of  me,  acceptance  of  me  as  I  was.  I 
saw  belief,  heart  hunger,  love. 


436  MONTLIVET 

And  then  I  laid  my  lips  on  hers.  She  was  my 
wife.  She  was  the  woman  God  had  made  for  me, 
the  woman  who  had  trusted  me  through  more 
than  death,  and  who  had  come  to  me  through 
blood  and  agony  and  tears.  She  was  my  own, 
and  I  had  her  there  alive.  I  took  her  to  myself. 


CHAPTER   XXXIII 

TO   US   AND   TO   OUR   CHILDREN 

HOURS  passed  and  the  flap  of  Cadillac's  tent  was 
not  lifted.  Outside  in  the  camp  the  drum  beat 
for  sunset.  The  woman  heard  it.  She  pushed 
back  her  soft  waves  of  hair,  and  a  shadow  fell 
across  the  light  that  had  been  in  her  eyes. 

"  I  had  forgotten,"  she  cried,  with  a  soft  tremble 
of  wonder  in  her  voice.  "  We  have  both  forgot 
ten.  We  promised  the  commandant  that  we 
would  talk  about  your  duty  to  the  tribes." 

I  kissed  her  for  her  forgetfulness.  "Talk  is 
unnecessary,"  I  whispered.  "I  have  made  up 
my  mind." 

But  the  drum's  note  had  recalled  her  to  what 
'lay  outside  the  tent  walls.  She  sighed  a  little 
and  bent  to  me  as  I  sat  at  her  feet. 

"  Do  not  make  up  your  mind  yet,"  she  begged 
with  a  curious,  tender  reluctance.  "  Let  me  tell 
you  something  first." 

I  pressed  her  hand  between  my  own.  "I  can 
not  listen.  I  can  only  feel.  Tell  me,  when  did 
you  love  me  first?" 

She  raised  her  hand  to  hide  a  tide  of  color. 
"Monsieur,  it  is  my  shame,"  she  cried,  with 


438  MONTLIVET 

a  little  half  sob  of  exultance.  "It  is  my  shame, 
but  I  will  tell  you.  The  night  —  the  night  that 
we  were  married,  I  lay  awake  for  hours  beset 
by  jealousy  of  the  woman  of  the  miniature.  Oh, 
I  am  indeed  shamed!  But  how  could  I  help 
it  ?  Your  walk,  your  laugh,  your  way  of  carry 
ing  your  head!  How  could  I  keep  from  loving 
you  ?  But  I  fought  it.  I  fought  it.  I  knew  we 
had  to  part.  I  went  to  sleep  every  night  with 
that  thought  uppermost." 

I  took  the  hand  I  held,  and  quieted  its  trem 
bling  against  my  lips.  ;<  You  are  my  wife,"  I  said. 
"We  shall  never  part.  We  shall  live  together 
till  we  are  very  old."  The  marvel  of  my  own 
words  awed  me. 

But  she  begged  me  to  hear  her  out.  "I  must 
speak  of  the  past,"  she  went  on.  "It  leads  to 
what  I  would  have  you  say  to  the  commandant. 
Will  you  listen?" 

"I  will  try." 

"  Then  —  then  let  me  speak  of  the  day  we 
parted.  I  saw  that  I  had  to  leave  you.  I  knew 
—  I  thought  I  knew  —  that  country  was  more 
sacred  than  individual  happiness.  But  I  was 
weaker  than  I  thought.  When  I  saw  Michilli- 
mackinac  fade,  when  I  knew  that  I  should  never 
see  you  again,  my  life  seemed  to  stop.  I  begged 
my  cousin  to  take  me  back.  I  —  I  begged  till  I 
fainted." 


TO  OUR  CHILDREN  439 

I  could  not  keep  my  hands  from  clenching. 
"And  he  refused  you?"  I  asked  with  my  lips 
dry,  and  I  knew  that  my  voice  showed  hate  of  a 
man  who  was  dead. 

She  did  not  answer  my  question,  and  when  she 
did  not  defend  him  I  knew  that  he  had  been  hard 
to  her.  "I  must  have  remained  unconscious  a 
long  time,"  she  hurried  on,  "for  when  I  came  to 
myself  again  the  country  was  different  and  the 
sun  was  low.  I  was  exhausted,  and  I  could  not 
think  as  I  had  done.  You  had  said  that  patri 
otism  was  a  man-made  feeling,  and  I  repeated 
your  words  over  and  over.  It  was  all  I  could 
seem  to  remember.  I  could  not  see  why  our 
parting  had  been  necessary.  I  wonder  if  you  can 
understand.  It  was  as  "if  I  had  been  reborn 
into  a  new  set  of  beliefs.  All  that  had  seemed 
inevitable  and  great  had  grown  trivial.  I  could 
not  see  distinctions  as  I  had.  God  made  us  — 
English,  French,  Indians.  I  could  not  under 
stand  what  patriotism  stood  for,  after  all.  I  did 
not  know  what  had  come  upon  my  mind,  but  I 
saw  that  words  that  I  had  thought  worth  sacri 
ficing  life  for  had  lost  their  meaning.  And  so  — 
and  so  —  You  see  what  I  would  say.  I  have 
changed.  If  you  wish  to  lead  the  tribes  you  are 
not  to  think  of  me." 

I  rose  and  drew  her  to  me.  "  But,  Mary,  I  no 
longer  wish  to  lead  the  tribes." 


440  MONTLIVET 

She  could  not  understand  me,  as  indeed  I 
could  not  wholly  understand  myself.  She  looked 
at  me  gravely  and  long,  and  she  tried  to  find  the 
truth  in  me,  —  the  truth  that  was  out  of  sight ; 
the  truth  about  myself  that  even  I  did  not  know. 

"Was  the  commandant  right?"  she  queried. 
"Is  it  anxiety  about  me  that  has  changed  your 
plans?" 

I  could  only  shake  my  head  at  her.  "I  am 
not  sure."  Then  I  sat  beside  her  and  tried  to 
explain.  "Simon  is  dead.  Pierre  died  saving 
me.  Leclerc  and  Labarthe  died  under  torture. 
I  sacrificed  them  to  enforce  a  belief.  And  now 
the  belief  is  a  phantom.  It  is  very  strange. 
Mary,  we  have  traveled  by  different  roads,  but 
we  have  reached  the  same  goal.  My  ambition 
for  conquest  is  put  away." 

She  drew  a  long  breath,  and  I  saw  splendid 
understanding  of  me  in  the  look  she  gave.  Yet 
she  was  unconvinced. 

"Perhaps  this  feeling  may  pass,"  she  argued. 
"It  may  be  temporary.  Then  you  will  regret 
your  lost  hold  with  the  tribes." 

I  smiled  at  her.  "I  love  you,"  I  murmured. 
"I  love  you.  I  love  you.  I  am  tired  of  talk 
of  blood  and  war.  Mary,  you  accepted  me  as  I 
was ;  accept  me,  if  you  can,  as  I  am  now.  I  can 
not  analyze  myself.  I  cannot  promise  what  I  will 
believe  as  time  goes  on.  But  this  I  know.  I  was 


TO  OUR  CHILDREN  441 

born  with  a  sword  in  my  hand,  but  now  I  cannot 
use  it  —  for  aggression.  I  do  not  mean  that  I 
think  it  is  wrong.  I  do  not  know  what  I  believe. 
Time  will  tell." 

The  strange  light  that  made  her  seem  all  spirit 
flamed  in  the  glance  that  thanked  me. 

"Yet  think  well,"  she  cautioned.  "  I  —  I  am 
proud  of  you."  Her  voice  sank  to  a  whisper. 
"Sometimes  even  my  love  seems  swallowed  in 
my  pride  in  you.  I  live  on  my  pride  in  your 
power.  Think  of  your  unfinished  work.  No, 
no,  you  must  go  on." 

I  took  her  by  the  shoulders.  "You  strange, 
double  woman!"  I  cried,  with  my  voice  un 
steady.  'You  command  me  to  do  something, 
the  while  you  are  trembling  from  head  to  foot 
for  fear  I  will  obey.  Will  you  always  play  the 
martyr  to  your  spirit?  Mary,  I  shall  not  lead 
the  tribes." 

"But  your  unfinished  work!" 

"  What  was  worth  doing  has  been  done.  This 
crisis  is  past.  The  west  will  be  safe  from  the 
Iroquois  for  some  time.  There  is  other  work 
for  me.  We  will  go  to  France.  I  have  business 
there.  Then  I  would  show  the  world  my  wife." 

Yet  she  held  me  away  a  moment  longer. 
"You  can  do  this  without  regret?" 

I  folded  her  to  me.  "  It  is  the  only  path  I  see 
before  me,"  I  answered  her. 


442  MONTLIVET 

And  then,  for  the  first  time,  she  sobbed  as  she 
lay  in  my  arms. 

A  little  later  we  stood  together  in  the  tent  door. 
The  sunset  was  lost  in  the  woods  behind  and  the 
shadows  were  long  and  cool.  'The  camp  was  gay. 
All  memory  of  death  and  conquest  was  put 
aside,  and  the  men  were  living  in  the  moment. 
French  and  Indians  were  feasting,  and  there  were 
song  and  talk  and  the  movement  of  lithe  bodies, 
gayly  clad.  The  water  babbled  strange  songs 
upon  the  shore,  and  the  forest  was  full  of  quiet 
and  mystery.  The  wilderness,  the  calm,  un- 
fathomed  wilderness,  had  forgotten  sorrow  and 
carnage.  We  forgot,  too. 

I  suddenly  laughed  as  of  old,  and  the  sound 
did  not  jar.  The  woman  on  my  arm  laughed 
with  me.  A  thrush  was  singing.  Life  was  be 
fore  me,  and  the  woman  of  my  love  loved  me. 
My  blood  tingled  and  I  breathed  deep.  The 
wood  smoke  —  the  smoke  of  the  pathfinder's 
fire  —  pricked  keen  in  my  nostrils. 

I  pointed  the  woman  to  the  forest.  "  We  shall 
come  back  to  it,"  I  cried.  ;<  We  leave  it  now,  but 
we  shall  come  back  to  it,  some  time,  somehow. 
Perhaps  we  shall  be  settlers,  explorers.  I  do  not 
know.  But  we  shall  come  back.  This  land  be 
longs  to  us;  to  us  and  to  our  children  and  our 
children's  children.  French  or  English,  what 
will  it  matter  then  ?  It  will  be  a  new  race." 


TO   OUR   CHILDREN  443 

The  woman  turned.  I  heard  her  quick  breath 
and  saw  the  red  flood  her  from  chin  to  brow.  "A 
new  race!"  she  repeated,  and  her  eyes  grew  dark 
with  the  splendor  of  the  thought.  She  clasped 
her  hands,  and  looked  to  the  west  over  the  un 
mapped  forest,  and  I  knew  that  for  the  moment 
her  blood  was  pulsing,  not  for  me,  but  for  that  un 
born  race  which  was  to  hold  this  land.  I  had 
married  a  woman,  yes,  but  also  I  had  married 
a  poet  and  a  dreamer  and  a  will  incarnate.  It 
was  such  spirit  as  hers  that  would  shape  the 
destinies  of  nations  yet  to  come. 

I  laughed  again,  and  the  joy  of  life  ran  through 
me  like  delirium. 

"Come!"  I  cried  to  her.  "Come,  we  will  tell 
Cadillac  that  to-morrow  we  start  for  Montreal. 
The  sooner  we  leave,  the  sooner  we  return,  — 
return  to  smell  the  wood  smoke,  and  try  the  wil 
derness  together.  Come,  Mary,  come." 

And  wrapping  my  wife  in  the  cloak  that  the 
savage  king  had  given  her,  I  led  her  out  and 
stood  beside  her  while  I  sent  the  tribes  upon 
their  way. 


Electrotyped  and  printed  by  H .  O.  Houghton  &»  Co. 
Cambridge,  Mass.,  U.S.  A, 


THE  EVASION 


By  EUGENIA  BROOKS  FROTHINGHAM 

Author  of  "  The  Turn  of  the  Road." 

"  The  latest  human  products  of  a  Puritan  heritage  and 
a  Boston  environment  are  portrayed  in  this  novel  with 
much  the  same  sort  of  artistic  realism  that  Mrs. 
Humphry  Ward  uses  in  her  chosen  field  of  London 
and  English  life."  —  Boston  Globe. 

"This  novel  has  distinction,  social,  artistic  and  moral. 
...  Its  social  distinction  is  truly  typical  of  Boston 
society.  .  .  .  Well-planned  and  constructed,  it  is  yet 
never  heavy.  .  .  .  The  moral  atmosphere  of  the  book 
is  clear  and  bracing."  — New  York  Mail. 

"  The  Evasion  reflects  Boston  as  accurately  as  New 
York  was  mirrored  in  '  The  House  of  Mirth.'  "  — 

Chicago  Evening  Post. 

"  A  fine  story,  showing  vivid  ability  and  power.  Every 
page  is  absorbing."  —  Chicago  Record-Herald. 

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A  LITTLE  SISTER 

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By  GELETT  BURGESS 


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with  a  head  full  of  odd  fancies,  and  a  nimble  pen  able 
to  set  them  forth  entertainingly.  Everybody  should 
read  '  A  Little  Sister  of  Destiny.' "  — 

New  York  Times, 

"A  quaint,  charming  book,  punctuated  with  the  de 
lightful  humor  and  illuminated  with  the  fertile  fancies 
of  its  gifted  author."  —  Washington  Star. 

"Very  readable  from  beginning  to  end."  — 

Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 
"Ingenious,  whimsical  and  entertaining."  — 

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